


The Reckoning

by orphan_account



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Abduction, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Apocalypse, Betrayal, Blackmail, Blasphemy, Bullying, Child Death, Death, Gaslighting, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, Groping, Gun Violence, M/M, Mass Death, Medical Trauma, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Plague, Possession, Post-Apocalypse, Prophets, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 82,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The apocalypse came in the form of a plague, leaving 99.9% of the population deceased. More than a few Marvel actors were included in the 0.1% survivors.Tom was beginning to think that he was the only person left alive in the world, until Jeremy found him. The elation of having another for company soon turned to dread, as Jeremy slowly started to pick at his already shaky confidence, before deciding that they should be intimate, irregardless of Tom's consent.Travelling down the American countryside, they arrived in Angola, shocked to find Robert, Evans and Sebastian together, at the main college campus. The other three had their own horror stories to tell, of their experiences of the plague.Although all of them felt the need to search out for more human company, they also had to deal with their own anguish, internal fighting and deep grief, of the world that they once knew, that was now no more.





	1. Tom

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot stress enough that this in no way is meant to at all represent any of these real life actors. I have simply taken their public persona to create this story. Jeremy is an absolute monster in this. I really like him, I just needed someone to be the villain and again, this has no relation whatsoever to the real man.
> 
> The gaslighting/bullying that Tom goes through is very loosely taken from a recent event in this writer's life (although the sexual assault is purely fictional for the fic.)
> 
> Warning for sexual assault from a person considered a friend. I understand this could be triggering. This is probably the darkest thing I've ever written, which is saying something. Obviously, this is inspired by Stephen King's brilliant 'The Stand'.

The woman’s emaciated frame, propped up against the cherry blossom tree, resembled some wretched carnival freak figure, designed to both shock and indulge in the basest of humankind’s fascination for grotesquery. Her blue and swollen face trickled sweat, eyes bulging from their sockets, as she reached her now claw-like hands out towards him. The prolonged deep rattle that surged out of her mouth seemed unfeasable, to have come from such a withered chest. This had been the first alive human that Tom had seen in days, and shamefully only served to produce in him the kind of profound anxiety that the living feels when being confronted with the reality of the fragility of life.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t help you, I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, his heart a galloping steed, as he continued jogging past her.

He had only ventured out of the Toronto apartment two days before, when the area was long devoid of gunshots and screams. He supposed the ones who were still alive had now withdrawn to more secluded areas, to die in peace, or amongst relatives who were still breathing. Perhaps the woman had deliberately gone out to the park, with the thought that death amongst the beauty of the white flowers was preferable to the sweltering cave of her domicile.

Tom stopped near a park bench a moment to catch his breath.

This woman was dying and his response was to not reach out to help her. The ever-present guilt started to eat away at that little bit more of his soul.

Tom was filming the third series of The Night Manager, which had transferred to Canada, when people started getting sick. To begin with, people thought that they were caching a rather virulent form of flu. Then the director got sick. Hugh went back to England, worried about his own family. The shoot was stalled; first one day, then two, then for a week. Though a little concerned, Tom was told to stay in Toronto. This would pass, everyone told him. Don’t believe the media’s fearmongering. His family in England started to sneeze on the phone to him. Chris, on Skype from Australia, told him that flu there had made everyone around him bedridden, but that he felt fine. The rumours started to grow; government coverups, the dead being buried out at sea, journalists being lethally silenced. Every day, as people started to develop sniffles and coughs around him, Tom kept expecting to wake up with the itchy throat, feel the malaise incapacitate his body. Every day, when this didn’t happen, he would feel a wave of relieve wash over him, and then chastise himself for his good health, when people were so unwell around him.

When he received the call to return to England, asap, he decided that he’d had enough. Filming be damned. He was about to board the plane, when the electrical surge obliterated all communications, making useless all satellites. Whether it was from an individual country, or individual hacker, or some valuable chip in some mainframe somewhere became overloaded, the end result was that everyone was now left in the veritable Dark Ages. No mobile phone coverage, no internet. Anything that depended on satellites, including planes, now, could not be operated.

Society collapsed, with people finally devolving to the panic that had been threatening since the first news item that vaguely mentioned a ‘flu epidemic’. Not that it lasted very long. Most of the human population was already dying, by then, so couldn’t cause too much of a ruckus.

Still, that woman dying under the cherry blossom tree clawed at his soul more than anything he had experienced so far, including the sight of the man who had shot himself, in the middle of the downtown business district. He decided to go back to her, be with her in those last few moments.

However, by the time he arrived back, she had acquired the glazed eyes of he recently demised. He knelt beside her and took her hand, feeling tears slide down his cheeks. Another one. Why?

“Do you really think you should be doing that?” The voice asked.

Tom screamed, as adrenaline rushed through his system, spinning around, to an illusion.

“I couldn’t believe it, at first,” the illusion said. Tom let go of the woman’s hand, stood up and continued to stare at the other man, mouth gaping open. “I heard you were filming in Toronto. Well, I was in New York and heard you weren’t sick. Downey told me. I thought I’d go find you.”

“You’re not sick?” Tom asked, reaching out to touch the arm of the man, to verify the vivid warm flesh.

Jeremy laughed. “I didn’t get sick.”

Tom returned the laugh, reaching forward to engulf Jeremy in a hug, grateful to finally have another human for company.

*

Jeremy’s story was hauntingly familiar. He hadn’t believed the rumours at first, thought it was just the garden variety flu. Then things started to slowly get worse. He was in New York, on holiday with Kristoff, when things took the inevitable drastic downturn. Everyone he knew started to get sick, but for, it seemed, Downey, Evans and Sebastian. But then, after the communications crash, he had no way of contacting them.

Then his life-partner, Kristoff got sick. He succumbed after three days of his first symptoms. Jeremy buried him in the Yankee Stadium and then made his way to Toronto.

Tom listened attentively to Jeremy’s tale, taking the occasional forkfuls of the meal that the other man had prepared, the ingredients of which he found in the kitchens of the recently appointed three-hat restaurant. It seemed that Jeremy was quite the cook, going by the utter deliciousness of his salmon brioche.

“Why did we survive?” Tom asked, placing his fork down onto the white tablecloth of the circular table. Here he was, enjoying good food while the majority of the world was deceased. Babies. Children. The just, the unjust, all gone. Just ten feet away, lay the slumped figures of the two people who had died in the dining room. Tom had covered their bodies with tablecloth; more to protect himself from the horror of looking upon their glazed visages. “None of it seems real.”

“I guess, you have to think what contribution did you make to the world?” Jeremy asked.

“Well, when it comes to people really making a difference. Surgeons, firefighters, nurses.” Tom’s mind went to his work with Unicef, to the ones on the ground, who actively worked to provide healthcare for the people in South Sudan. They were most probably gone too. “And what am I? I made some movies, just popcorn trifle. Entertaining, certainly. And I have always held that art is important, is at the apex of a fully functioning society. At least I tried to get the word out, to shake people from the complacency that seemed so common to everyday Western life…” Tom trailed off. Why continue lamenting the past? That society no longer existed.

“You mean with that speech you gave at the Golden Globes? Yeah, I watched it,” a smirk distorted Jeremy’s lips. “Seemed a bit self-important, sorry Tom.”

“No, I was trying… that wasn’t what I… that wasn’t what I was intending at all!” Tom felt his face flush, as his innards squirmed.

“Well, I guess none of it matters now, does it? That world is now gone. We’ll have to make do with the new one.”

“Tis a vile thing to die, when men are unprepared and not look for it.’ Richard the third,” Tom said.

For a moment, Jeremy’s eyes gleamed with an unnamed emotion, before a warm smile uplifted his lips.

“So smart, Tom.”

“To build anew…There must be other survivors. We will find them. We must. It’s human nature to want to regroup, restart society.”

“I agree. But is that a good thing?”

Tom deliberated on the question and found that he didn’t have an answer.

*

Tom came out of his room the next morning, to find Jeremy already in the lobby, with a backpack slung over his shoulders.

“We can’t stay here.”

“We can’t?” Tom asked. “This is a more than comfortable hotel-“

“I mean we can’t stay in the city. It’s spring now. Can you imagine the summer? Millions of rotting corpses.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Tom felt a bit daft that the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“So, I’m assuming you have a backpack- “

“Oh no, I didn’t-“

Jeremy appeared a little exasperated. “You haven’t packed a backpack of supplies?”

“No, because I wasn’t thinking…I mean, I can pack one. It won’t take much. Just some clothes, a toothbrush. Maybe it will be fun to raid the local store.”

This produced a slightly crooked grin from Jeremy. He reached out and gently grasped Tom’s shoulder. “Your hair’s growing out. Looks pretty.”

“Oh, I just haven’t had the chance to cut it.” His hair had not been a priority, in the past few tumultuous weeks.

“No, I like it,” Jeremy then reached a hand out and lifted a curl by Tom’s ear, before dropping it. “Like I said, pretty.”

“Thanks,” Tom said, feeling a little discomfited by the sudden intimacy.

“Alright, let’s go,” Jeremy said, turning his back on Tom and walking towards the door.

Tom shook his head.

_So, your friend is not allowed to give you a compliment? Be thankful that he’s here to keep you company._

“Jeremy?”

The older man turned back to him.

“Thank you for… for everything.”

“It’s no problem at all, Tom. Come on, let’s go commit some grand larceny.”

*

It turned out that Jeremy’s idea for leaving the city involved riding motorcycles. Watching the row of metallic beasts lined up before him, Tom’s stomach churned at the thought.

“I must tell you now that I actually have never-“ His mind offered the distasteful image of his grizzly remains all over the freeway, after pitching head-first off the bike.

“You’ve never ridden a motorcycle?” Jeremy asked, not looking up from his position examining the motorcycle to his left. “You’re joking, right? Wait, didn’t you ride one in the Night Manager?”

_You watched that? Didn’t think it would be your kind of show._

“That wasn’t me, that was my stunt double. I was only used for the closeup shots, just sitting on the still motorcycle.”

For a moment, Jeremy scrutinised him, opaque expression causing Tom to awkwardly shift from foot to foot.

“Let me ask you something. Do you know how to build a fire? How to hunt for wild game?”

Tom opened his mouth to protest that of course he could at the very least build a fire. He hadn’t been around for thirty-six years without acquiring some kind of lifeskills.

“See, Tom, this is what a liberal education gets you. What’s the point of quoting Shakespeare at me when what I really need is for you to be able to just hop on the first motorcycle we find, so we can get out of this damned city!”

Tom experienced the taunt as a jagged knife twisting his innards. He bitterly supposed Jeremy had a point. Although he had always considered art and literature to be at the forefront of what was essential to be human, there was, it was true, no need for it while trying to escape from a city of rotting corpses.

“I can learn. Just teach me!” Tom said, determined to prove himself. “It can’t be too hard!”

*

“No!” Jeremy shouted. “You’re pressing the gas, not the brake. Do you want to break your neck?”

Tom took a few deep breaths to steady his quivering insides and tried again. The motorcycle revved, and smoke plumed out the back. For the past fifteen minutes, they hadn’t left the motorcycle store. It seemed that operating a motorcycle was more difficult than he suspected. But then, Jeremy’s impatience wasn’t helping.

“Alright, stop.” Jeremy said. Tom dutifully turned off the ignition, his heart pounding. “Okay, now tell me. Step by step. How to ride the motorcycle.”

Tom’s heart was now so loud that it appeared to have relocated right up next his ear. “So, I let out the clutch lever.”

“No, before you even do that!” Jeremy said, folding his arms across his chest.

Tom felt his face heat up, the fuzziness of his brain started to encroach over his thinking. He told himself to focus. He could do this. Only, rather than motorcycle instructions, his mind seemed determined to show him the same image over and over; the woman in the park, under the cherry blossom tree. Tom stared at Jeremy dumbly.

“The kickstand. It sounds simple, but it can really trip you up.”

“Okay,” Tom said, inwardly telling himself to be confident. “So, make sure the kickstand isn’t down. Let out the clutch lever, which is at the left handlebar.”

“No, Tom, you’re forgetting. Before you even do that, what do you do?”

Tom’s eyes stung with tears, his stomach twisting, thoughts dispersing in his mind. Why couldn’t he get this?

“I… You place it in neutral position?” Tom’s face was now so hot that he was afraid it would spontaneously combust. Surely now, Jeremy would ask him how to place it in neutral position. Looking into Jeremy’s stern visage, Tom’s breath started to quicken. He couldn’t concentrate, his mind just wasn’t pulling together. The woman under the cherry blossom tree had now changed to a recollection of the Night Manager shoot, the day before he left. Lenny the cameraman sneezed ten times in a row and then remarked that he must have broken some kind of record.

“You know what, I have an idea. This isn’t working,” Jeremy thankfully broke him of the distracting memory.

“Honestly, Jeremy, I can do this. I can learn!” Tom said.

“It’s fine, honestly,” Jeremy said. “You’re just a bit too… refined for this. We’ll find a sidecar. That way you can just sit and relax. Honestly, Tom,” he reached over and touched the top of his hand. “It’s fine.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tom said. “I just don’t know what’s with my brain, right now.”

“I notice you seem a bit… anxious. Have you tried meditation? That tends to work for me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tom said. “I think it’s just… everything that’s happened.”

“Of course… especially with someone as sensitive as you. You’d take this hard.”

And you haven’t? Tom thought but quickly shook himself of such an insulting idea. Of course, Jeremy would have suffered, in the calamity of the world ending. He was obviously dealing in a different way, to himself.

“You know,” Jeremy remarked. “On set, we always thought you were such the gentile. Tom, so elegant, so austere, so English. A bit self-centred, sure, but in such a sweet way.”

“I don’t think I’m…” Was it self-centred to think that one wasn’t self-centred? And who was ‘we’? Who else talked about himself in such a way? Sudden, sharp hurt squeezed his chest.

_Don’t worry about it. That was such a long time ago. It doesn’t matter, now._

“You’ll be fine,” Jeremy said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”

*

In the morning, after bedding down at a rather mediocre five-star hotel in Detroit for the night, Tom went out for a jog, feeling the need to calm his currently overworked mind. He passed a couple of very deceased diners, who were sprawled across their alfresco tables, and almost tripped over a man in a business suit, lying face down on the ground. Tom started to feel the hairs on his neck prick up. This city was like Toronto. And the next. And then the next. Cities of corpses. He gave a startled cry and then started to run faster, turning back towards the hotel. Even in there, there were corpses in the lobby. Tom’s breath started to be as fire in and out of his throat, his muscles aching. He pumped them even harder, determined to escape, to leave this city, this place, hell, this-

He reached the interior lobby and skidded in.

“Tom!” Jeremy shouted, standing up from a lobby chair and coming over. “There you are! What were you thinking?”

“What?” Tom asked, panting wildly, his lungs desperate for air, his mind rather bamboozled by Jeremy’s furious expression.

“Going for a run? Did you even consider who could be out there?” Jeremy asked, face livid and white. “You could get attacked!”

_What? That doesn’t make any sense!_

“Why would anyone attack me?”

“Because there’s no society anymore! Damn it, Tom, I know you’re smart but sometimes, the way you talk…Anyone still alive could attack or kill or rape you just for the hell of it! Do you know what people are capable of, when they’re at their basest instincts? They would do anything to you. Anything! Just…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Just don’t go running off like that again, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said, feeling as stupid as Jeremy had suggested. What was he thinking, running off by himself like that? “I won’t do it again.”

“It’s fine,” Jeremy reached out and pulled him into an embrace. Startled, Tom’s arms momentarily just hung by his sides, before he wrapped them around Jeremy’s back. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?”

“Okay,” Tom patted him on the back. Jeremy squeezed him harder, pulling their bodies together, his muscles trembling. Now, more than uncomfortable at being so physically close to Jeremy that he was pressed up against his crotch, Tom went to pull away. Jeremy continued in the strange tight hug a few moments longer and let him go.

 “I’ll make it up to you. How about I cook dinner tonight?” Tom asked.

Jeremy smiled with such warmth that Tom felt guilty about feeling awkward about the hug. Damn, they were, as far as they knew, the only two people left alive in the world. Jeremy was putting on a strong act but was suffering as much as he was. He was allowed to feel vulnerable, to need human affection and companionship.

*

“Here it is,” Tom said, piling the spaghetti into Jeremy’s plate. “My own special concoction of spaghetti with bacon. It’s simply divine.” He then piled some onto his own plate opposite Jeremy and sat down, twirling the pasta around a fork.

Jeremy swallowed a few mouthfuls, then took a sip of his red wine. “Not bad, Tom. Not really my thing though, sorry.”

“Oh, no I’m sorry,” Tom said. What was wrong with him of late? It seemed he couldn’t do anything right.

“I think maybe I’ll handle the cooking from now on,” Jeremy said.

Tom looked down at his pasta, feeling tears sting his eyes. He wasn’t even sure why Jeremy’s dismissal was affecting him in such a strong way. It was only spaghetti.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Jeremy said. “We can share cooking, that’s fine.”

Tom took a few centring breaths. “It’s only spaghetti,” he said.

*

Jeremy finished arranging the final log and struck a match to the assembled firewood, in the open fireplace. Tom sat back on the lounge opposite, pushing down feelings of inadequacy. The other man had been determined to bring the firewood in and light the fire, despite Tom’s protests. Did Jeremy think he couldn’t even make a simple fire? But then, with the way he was of late, perhaps there was some truth to that.

Smirking, Jeremy came to the couch to sit beside Tom. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Lovely…” Tom whispered, enjoying the flames so pleasantly dancing along the edge of the logs. “It’s the simple pleasures.”

“Yes…”

Feeling eyes on him, Tom swivelled his head, to catch Jeremy staring at him, his lips slightly uptilted. Jeremy leant forward. With a sinking sensation in his gut, Tom suddenly realised that Jeremy was trying to kiss him. He had an instinct that this could happen, but was hoping that he could avert it by playing dumb.

“What are you doing?” The words came out before he even realised that he’d said them. Jeremy pulled back, eyes bulging, the blood drained from his face.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “I… you’re such a great friend… such an amazing, wonderful person. All the ways that you’ve helped me, supported me in this dreadful time…”

Jeremy’s brow knitted together and he leant forward, once more.

“Jeremy, I’m sorry, I’m just not-“

Ignoring him, Jeremy started to nuzzle his throat.

“I said stop!” Tom used his weight to push Jeremy off him. The older man went tumbling off the couch, to land clumsily on his side, on the carpet below. “Oh no, Jeremy, are you-?” Tom half-rose off the couch, in concern.

Jeremy picked himself up and withdrew his hand, before colliding it sharply with Tom’s cheekbone. Gasping, Tom cradled the injured flesh, trying to make sense of what had just happened. No one had ever physically assaulted him before. This wasn’t… no, this couldn’t be happening, not a friend, not…

Jeremy then climbed back on top of him and used a fist, this time. Tom cried out in alarm and fright, as pain exploded in his jaw.

“Please stop….” He said, placing his hands up to protect his face.

_Why is he doing this to me?_

_Stop, please. Stop._

Jeremy grabbed his wrists with one hand, holding them together up over his head. He then tore at Tom’s t-shirt, raking it up and over his shoulders and head, before pulling it off completely and dumping it on the floor. Tom’s entire body locked in numb terror. This couldn’t be real. Jeremy wouldn’t do this to him. Jeremy, who was always quick with a joke, who he had laughed and drank with, who instantly responded to his group texts with whatever hilarity he was up to, in that moment.

“Please… please…” Tom whispered. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, his entire body tremble, his thoughts seeming to evaporate from his mind, as they had so often those past few days, telling itself over and over that this couldn’t be happening, that a friend wouldn’t do this to him. Jeremy released his hands and then hastily undid his fly, before tearing his jeans and boxers from his body and then roughly parting his legs. Tom concentrated on the fire, escaping from the agony of what Jeremy was attempting to do to him, by being mesmerised by the flames. They were still blazing strong, hopefully were making some good coals, warm enough to make the room toasty for the rest of the night.

Jeremy’s coarse finger shoving inside of him brought him back to the present. He grunted in pain, moving his hands to Jeremy’s chest to try and push him off; only his strength seemed to have evaporated with his fear of being hit again. Jeremy simply used one hand to grab them and hold them over his head once more, as he added another finger.

“Please don’t….” Tom whispered.

Yes, the room was getting toasty now… maybe a top up would-

Jeremy’s fingers pulled out and he was granted temporary reprieve, before something far larger, something Tom’s petrified mind didn’t even want to consider, forced its way inside of him. Tom screamed in agony and was rewarded with a sweaty hand clamped over his mouth, the same one that had just been inside him, the fingernails digging painfully into his cheeks. Even with his loquacious speech, there were no words to describe the physical, psychological and spiritual agony of what Jeremy was now enacting upon him. He squeezed his eyes closed tight, his brain disavowing his reality. This couldn’t be his friend grunting and forcing his way into his unprepared body.

_Please no, make it stop._

Jeremy’s grunts turned to moans and he started to rock within him; fast, brutal motions that seemed to tear into him with every thrust rocking his body. It was as though he was being repeatedly stabbed. The excruciation broke him of his numbed stillness, and he tried again to use his weight to push Jeremy off, twisting and thrusting his own body this way and that but to no avail.

“Just go with it, Tom. You want it, you know…”

After a few minutes, the terror and shock once again weakened him and Tom ceased to struggle, simply lying still, again watching as the flames burned lower and lower, as Jeremy continued his assault upon his body, grunting and moaning and telling him that he was good, that he wanted it.

Tom’s mind going to the woman in the park, once more. Why had she died? Why had they all died?

“Fuuuck!” Jeremy stilled and then jerked his hips a few more times, warmth flooding Tom’s insides, before his attacker collapsed on top of him, pinning him to the couch with his heavy body. Tom found that he couldn’t move, was too fatigued to try and separate himself from the man who had just assaulted him, as Jeremy began sucking on his neck.

“Thank you,” Jeremy whispered. Tom flinched, and then winced as Jeremy roughly removed himself from his body. He felt somehow rearranged back there, as though the intrusion had fundamentally altered the bodily structures. If he was severely injured, then what would they do? It wasn’t as though they could just pop into the local hospital.

Jeremy pulled his pants up and then gathered Tom’s clothes up from the floor and piled them on top of him. “Better recheck the fire.”

For a moment, Tom stared at the clothes, as though his mind had forgotten their function.

“I need to… I need to have a shower,” Tom said.

“Maybe I’ll join you,” Jeremy winked.

“I’ll…. I’m going to have a shower,” Tom grabbed his jeans and wrapped them around his naked waist, before shrugging the shirt back on. As soon as he stood up, pain tore through his frame, causing him to almost double over. He could feel wetness on his inner thighs but didn’t want to look down, to verify the truth of what fluids were marring his flesh.

_One step at a time. Make it to the shower room._

He only just made it inside the ensuite of the room where he’d been staying, before his stomach could no longer tolerate its need for release, and he vomited all over the shower floor.

This had happened. He had let it happen.

_What’s wrong with me? Why did I let him do that to me?_

With unsteady legs, Tom walked over to the bathroom door and locked it, before regarding himself at the bathroom mirror. His left cheek was reddened and his jaw was discoloured. He carefully prodded the flesh with a finger, and experienced tenderness but no severe pain. So the area appeared bruised but otherwise undamaged. He then made careful examination of his body. Fingernail marks marred his hips and… Tom took a deep breath…between his legs…Tom collapsed down onto his knees, almost in the congealed vomit.

He needed to have a shower, to wash away the blood and… other fluids.

_I can’t deal with this._

Tom crawled around the vomit and managed to lift himself up and over into the bathtub, placing the plug in the drain and turning the hot water on. As he leant back to sit himself down, he gasped as pain once more shocked his system.

“No…” He knelt his head forward onto his folded-up knees and let the tears fall.

*

“I have a good feel about Chicago. I think we’ll be fine to hole up there for a few nights,” Jeremy was seated in the motorcycle beside Tom, who was currently struggling to find a comfortable position in the side car. “What do you think?”

Tom didn’t much care. At this point, nothing was of much interest to him. They could go to Antarctica or the Bermudan Rainforest and he’d find it as exhilarating as watching a caterpillar crawl along the ground.

“Sure,” he said, quietly, viewing, with disinterest, the foliage zipping by. Every so often, they would have to zig-zag around a couple of stalled cars. In one, Tom had glimpsed a bassinet. Guilt from that morning’s transgressions stabbed deep into him again. He had been so close… it was a moment of panic, he told himself… but still.

They had passed over a small bridge, looking down onto a flowing creek and Jeremy had pulled over to have a gander. That was when Tom had the idea. Just one step. The bridge was high enough. Not too high but if he dived, that would be enough. He had steadied himself, his heart had started to pound. Just one step.

Then Jeremy had called him back, had startled him, with a hand curled around his neck and Tom had come back to himself.

With all the millions dead, he was considering this, just to end it, to become just another dead body littering the streets. He told himself that it was an insult to all the ones that he never got to see in their final moments; his family, his friends. They had died, in agony, perhaps without the comfort of a loved one, and this was his solution? He, who was somehow spared?

Disgust, a constant companion now washed over him, dirtying his already unwashed pores.

“You can even make dinner, if you want,” Jeremy suggested. “I’ll try your spaghetti again.”

Tom didn’t answer. Really, what was there to say?

After the initial... assault, he had returned to the room with Jeremy. Where else was he going to go? He needed Jeremy, couldn’t bear the thought of traveling the country alone. Hell, based on the past few days, wouldn’t last more than a few hours, anyway.

Jeremy, who had been sitting on the couch, drinking what appeared to be red wine, patted the seat next to him.

“Come sit next to me, beautiful.”

For a moment, Tom had considered what would happen if he didn’t, if instead he grabbed the wineglass out of Jeremy’s hand and smashed it on the ground, before using the broken shards to stab his attacker in the neck, over and over, drenching himself in blood, as he looked into Jeremy’s eyes and saw the life ebb from his body-

Then, as now, thinking back, Tom was instantly overcome with utter disgust, at himself. Where the extreme rage came from, he wasn’t sure. But he had never thought of himself as able to actively fantasise about killing another. Now, in the world of so many deaths, this had poisoned his mind.

When he then came and sat next to Jeremy, the other man had run a hand down his chest and then lay it gently on his knee. Telling his rampaging heart to still, Tom allowed the molestation. He deserved punishment, for his vicious thoughts of harming another human being.

After a few hours of silence between them, Jeremy had tried to kiss him again. Tom had initially tried to pull away, so Jeremy placed a hand around his neck, the implication clear.

“Please, I’m bleeding,” Tom had said, attempting to stall the inevitable.

“I’ll be gentle.”

And so Jeremy was, kissing his neck and stroking his body in a mockery of past lovers, but it didn’t stop the pain from being excruciating, or the shame from permeating every fibre of his body.

Afterwards, while Tom lay crying beneath him, Jeremy had held him, petted his hair, assured him that everything would be alright. The needed comfort of another human being was at such odds of what he had just done that Tom was unsure as to how to even begin to respond. Jeremy fell asleep not long after. Tom extricated himself from underneath him and made his way to the bathroom, once more.

In the morning, before they left, Jeremy wanted him once more. Tom couldn’t. If Jeremy forced him again, he was certain that this time he would be severely damaged that he would need the kind of medical expertise that just wasn’t available anymore, so Jeremy had compromised, had pressed his shoulders until he fell to his knees. With tearful resignation, he had obeyed. Afterwards, no amount of tooth brushing could erase the taste from his mouth.

Then there was _that_ thought, as Jeremy undid his pants and fished his erection out. What if he bit down, tore the offending body part with his teeth, making Jeremy bleed, as he had, punching and kicking the man, hearing him scream and beg for mercy? Coldness started to seep over Tom’s slender frame.

No. It wouldn’t be right. No matter what Jeremy forced on him, to respond in such a fashion would be a black mark on his own soul.

“You’re quiet today,” Jeremy said. Tom had to stop himself from laughing out loud.

_Sorry I’m not exactly verbose after a night of being repeatedly…_

No, he wasn’t going to even think about it.

“I like hearing you talk. So smart, Tom. You know about so many things that I couldn’t possibly even…”

They passed a sign for Angola. He was pretty sure this was rather a detour. Weren’t they meant to be going to Chicago? Maybe Jeremy was misdirected. But then, he wasn’t exactly an expert on American geography.

“You make everything sound so interesting,” Jeremy said.

“I’m not in the mood to talk,” Tom replied.

“So what? You’re going to have a little sulk, now?”

Tom returned his attention to the passing greenery, once more.

The area was becoming more built up, as they were coming off the main highway. A few more cars were now in the streets. Jeremy became quiet, as he concentrated on negotiating around the piled-up traffic. Tom closed his eyelids, not wanting to see any more of the bodies in the cars. He was growing fatigued of the swollen faces and glazed eyes, of knowing that these people died in a mad scramble to find… what, exactly? A cure? That vaccination that the government kept promising but were never going to deliver on?

_We’re now living in an open morgue._

They were heading up towards a rather majestic looking red bricked building, when they heard what initially seemed impossible. A voice, yelling.

“Hey! Hey!”

A darkhaired man was running along the green grass, in front of the building, towards them. For a moment, Tom thought that Jeremy was going to keep zooming past. But then he slowed down, to a halt.

As the man drew closer, Tom’s mouth opened wide in surprise.

No. It couldn’t be.

The man’s mouth also dropped open.

“I don’t believe this! Of all the people!” He spun around and shouted behind him. “Chris! Seb! Get out here right now! You’re not going to believe this!”

Tom scrambled out from the box car and stood a moment, unable to process what he was seeing. But, this was undeniable, from the coloured glasses to the toothy white grin, to the always tousled dark hair.

“Robert!”

“The one and only!”

He looked behind him, to see two other very familiar figures running towards them.

“How is this possible?”

“Oh my god how are you, man?” Jeremy switched the engine of the motorcycle, threw the stand down and came over to engulf Robert in an almighty embrace.

They let go and Robert then moved to embrace Tom. He flinched but then moved into the hug, stiff in Robert’s arms. By the time Evans and Sebastian came up to give hugs, he had managed to keep his flinching under control.

For a moment, after letting go of Evans, he thought he caught Robert giving him a curious and concerned look, but then he caught his eyes and Robert was appearing sunny, as ever.

“Tonight, we celebrate our escape from the Grim Reaper in this supposedly haunted university. Okay, I may have made that bit up,” Robert said.

_Other people._

Tom’s legs grew wobbly beneath him.

“You okay, Tom?” Robert asked.

Tom nodded. “I’m just so relieved to see you guys.”

“I think your specific brand of English elegance and refinement will finally add some class to us unrefined Americans. Seb tried, with his own Romanian brand of elegance and refinement. But we’re just too stubborn-headed," Robert said.

“Speak for yourself,” Chris said, placing an arm around Sebastian’s waist. Sebastian responded by grabbing his hand.

_Well, that’s not the least surprising._

“Come on in guys,” Robert said. “We’ve managed to scrounge up a fair amount of food and, more importantly, alcohol. The latter you guys can go crazy on. I’ll, of course, refrain.”

“How did you guys find each other?” Jeremy asked, as all five started to walk towards the entrance of the redbricked building.

“I think we all owe each other a story,” Robert said.

Tom rushed up to move alongside him.

“Damn, Tom, it’s always such a pleasure to see you. But now… I feel like I’ve just seen both Marilyn Monroe and JFK naked and getting it on together, I’m that damned thrilled,” Robert said.

Robert certainly had an eccentric way of describing things, at times.

“Mona Lisa and Da Vinci, now that would be an interesting one,” Tom said.

Robert laughed. “Well, you certainly outdid me there. But then, I’m used to that, from you. Bloody perfect, isn’t he? Gorgeous to look at, wickedly smart, talented in just too many ways,” he said, to a grinning Sebastian and Chris. “I would be forced to hate you, if you weren’t so damned lovely a person.”

Tom felt all of the good humour leave his body.

No, he wasn’t perfect at all. He was far from perfect.

It suddenly occurred to him that, while Robert was lavishing praise upon him, he had not said a word about being happy to see Jeremy.

Tbc…


	2. Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for more death, mourning, suicidal thoughts, talk of rape.  
> Again, this is simply using the public personas of the celebrities, to delve into a fictional look at an apocalyptic world.

Robert always thought of himself as an incredibly unique individual, revealing, in many a peculiar way, to simply not be subject to the whims and fancies of your run-of-the-mill ‘normal’. Although he didn’t like to stereotype, he did find that almost every person he met tended to fit in one category, or another. Even those who saw themselves as equally eccentric as himself usually fit into that (predominantly) Brooklyn, or the approximation thereof in whatever city they hailed from, hipster type, who ranted about the government, as their coffee (usually in a paper cup. They were fierce defenders of the environment, but not that fierce) started to grow cold. Robert vehemently defended such personal views by telling himself that he didn’t see himself as particularly above other people, in his eccentricity, only different.

However, as the society started to disintegrate around him, he found that he reacted precisely the same way as everyone else, and that he had, indeed, been an arrogant swot. First came the denial. There was no super virus. Of course not. It was just a flu. People would get better. It wasn’t as though this was the Black Plague. Human beings would survive. They always did.  The media kept telling him to keep calm, and so he did. He kept to his normal life; going to events, working on promoting his charities and simply enjoying being with his family, while him and Susan started perusing new film projects.

A few people sneezed around him, on the street. In his favourite café (the one that brewed the most magnificent hazelnut tinged long black), he overheard the barista complaining of having a fever. Susan developed a bit of a cough. But it was fine. The talk of people actually dying… well, people died of the flu anyway, didn’t they? It was normal to accept a certain number of people dying; the old, the infirm, those already with diminished immune systems. Collateral damage, in a way. Such an ugly term.

Robert started to notice that every day he went out to grab the milk or take a walk, there would be lesser and lesser people in the streets of New York. Then his favourite news vender simply didn’t show up one day, followed by Frank, the hot dog vender, who made the tastiest chilli dogs.

Susan grew worse. Then the rest of the family started to cough and sneeze. Robert kept telling himself that they would be fine. Whole families didn’t just die. That simply wasn’t going to happen.

Life couldn’t be that cruel.

No, that just wouldn’t happen to him.

Both him and Susan discussed moving out of New York. There was an odd vibe to the city now, a subtle undercurrent of panic just about to erupt and tear apart the streets with ferocious chaos. This steadily growing fear and suspicion was hinted at with every darting eye movement, and the closed body language, of their usually friendly New York compadres.

The day before the family decided definitively to leave the starting to be Rotten Apple, Chris and Sebastian came around. They had been vaguely keeping in touch via texts, whereby Robert had learnt that Renner also apparently in New York also had not caught the virus yet. Nor had Hemsworth in Australia, or Hiddleston, currently in Canada.

Stepping into the foyer, Chris displayed his usual nervous pacing and twitching of fingers, while Sebastian simply stood almost languidly, as though he was about to take a gentle stroll in pre-super virus Central Park.

“Things are getting crazy out there,” Chris remarked, as Robert closed the door behind them.

“I guess now’s the best time to tell you. We’re going to get out of the city. It’s starting to feel dangerous,” Robert said, as all three moved from the foyer to the lounge.

“I don’t think that will be possible. Lincoln Bridge is closed up. There’s rumours of the military stopping people leaving the island. Lethally,” Sebastian’s always immobile face scrunched up in an expression of clear worry.

“I did consider this. I know someone who isn’t sick. He can fly a helicopter. You guys should come with us,” Robert said. Of course, they hadn’t discussed taking others. But leaving the two in New York seemed almost akin to deserting a fellow soldier in a battleground, at this point.

Susan came out from the kitchen, sneezing into her hands. The circles under her eyes had now darkened from purple to black, and her neck was distinctly puffy. Robert kept telling himself that she would be fine. She would beat this. They all would.

“Oh, hi guys. The kids are still in bed. I think they’re getting a little better,” she said to her husband, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Robert caught the alarmed look that passed between Sebastian and Chris.

_There’s no need to be worried, because we’re all going to be fine. We’re going to get out of the city and we’re going to be fine._

“The army was looking for volunteers. For people who are still healthy. We’ve decided to go to them,” Chris explained.

“Woh, terrifically bad idea,” Robert said, glancing at Susan, whose lovely dark eyes duplicated his anxiety.

“They need people who are immune. They want to make a vaccination,” Sebastian said. “Maybe, with our help... it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“But how do we know that you _are_ immune? That any of us are? How do we know that we just haven’t caught it yet?” Robert said, reaching out, almost on instinct, to grab Susan’s clammy hand.

“People are dying!” Sebastian said, waving his hands about in the air, emphasise his point. “We can’t do nothing.”

“So, your solution is to go off with the military, to become lab rats?” Robert focused purely on Sebastian. Chris was shrewd, no doubt. But not when it came to Sebastian. Every time the Romanian was around, Chris’s eyes followed him, with the appropriate amount of puppy dog endearment.  Robert suspected that if Sebastian told him to climb to the top of the Empire State building and hang off the edge, King Kong style, Chris would prove to be even better at imitation than Andy Serkis.

Yes, this was Sebastian’s idea, no doubt. And Chris had agreed, with not much justification.

“I had the strongest feeling that it was the government, who you’re hell-bent on handing yourself over to, who caused this mess!” Robert said.

“I don’t even think it’s a feeling. I think it’s the truth,” Susan agreed.

Sebastian didn’t answer, he simply held Robert’s attention with his always expressive blue eyes. From the moment that Robert first saw the young Romanian, he had been desperate to get him into his bed. Him and Susan enjoyed an open relationship. Their only stipulations were that the other person had to be of the same sex, and that they couldn’t fall in love. With the love of his life already wearing his wedding ring, Robert knew that wasn’t going to ever happen.

 On the set of Civil War, Robert had flirted with him outrageously. Sebastian had responded with polite tact. They were actors and, as his character Osiris from ‘Tropic Thunder’ had once quipped, “Everyone’s gay once in a while. This is Hollywood!” In the land of beautiful people and fluid sexuality, Robert always found it surprising when he met men who were staunchly heterosexual, such as Hemsworth or Ruffalo. He was beginning to think that Sebastian sadly fell into this category, until he started to see the subtle ways in which he responded to Chris Evans' clear adoration of him.

“We feel it’s the right thing to do,” Sebastian finally said.

“They’ll kill you,” Robert said. “When it all goes to hell. That’s what they’ll do. It’s inevitable.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Chris said, making obvious his sarcasm.

Robert shook his head, giving up. These two were determined to partake in what he was certain would turn out to be a suicidal idea. But there was clearly no talking them out of it.

‘Well, if you do get out, come down to Angola. We were thinking of going there.”

“Why Angola?” Sebastian asked, brows furrowing.

“Why Angola? That’s the spirit! It’s the last place people will expect us to go.”

*

Robert buried the last of his family in one of the university gardens. It was beautiful there. Peaceful. He cried the entire time. In fact, he didn’t think it was possible that his body could hold that much water. It seemed that he had cried out all six litres of his body’s precious fluids in the past two weeks.

The pain of losing them, one after the after, became compounded on itself, until he was certain that he couldn’t bear it. The agony felt physical, tearing deep into his heart.

Only, he could bear it, just. And was all the worse for it. A couple of times, he thought of joining them. At one point, he even stood in one of the staffroom kitchens, with a knife in his hand.

But then he recalled the promise he had made Susan, not long before she succumbed. As always, knowing him perhaps better than he knew himself, she had made him vow not to take his own life, to be with them.

He would live on in this terrible new world.

Most nights, he would simply lie in bed, in one of the university dormitories, peering out the window onto the still grounds, his mind haunted with swirling memories, trying to work out why this had happened.

Why was he spared? It didn’t make sense. He was not a righteous man, he didn’t even consider himself too much of a good man. The others, they were better than him. He was arrogant, selfish, only made good by those around him. And now, they were gone.

Then there were the nights that he paced the halls, kicking up dust and deliberately bypassing the various bodies of ill-fated students and teachers throughout. He supposed he should find the energy to bury them too. Or at least place them in the one area, away from the university interior.

In the days, he would wander the gardens, mind searching for solace that simply didn’t occur. Would never occur, ever again. He started to blame the God that he no longer purported to believe in. What kind of a God killed children? Allowed them to suffer so?

It was sick! It was disgusting! At one point, he railed at the heavens, screaming at the Creator, demanding justice.

Demanding his family back.

There was no response.

A cool breeze lightly ruffled his hair and lingered through the purple lilacs alighting the bright grass at his feet, sweeping the sweet flora fragrance into his nose. The beauty of nature was a cruel trick. What right did he have, to enjoy the tranquillity of the scene before him; the sunlight bouncing off the red maples so prettily, when so many literally rotted metres behind him?

If there was a God, then he decided it was a cruel, unforgiving and manipulative son-of-a-bitch.

*

He heard the motorcycles before he saw them. Desperate now for any human company, he rushed from where he had been casually dawdling in the garden to the back of the main building, almost tripping on the main path.

The bikes ran along the grass and stopped right before him.  The riders were a little skinnier, and had grown fare more impressive facial hair than he had, in the past few weeks, but there was no denying who they were.

Chris alighted the bike so fast that he spilled over onto the ground. Unable to help himself, Robert laughed, the sound high-pitched, almost hysterical. He helped him up, hugging him tightly, before feeling Sebastian’s arms on the other side.

“You didn’t tell us where in Angola to find you! We’ve been searching all the main public buildings all morning!” Chris laughed.

For the first time in his life, Robert felt too overcome to come up with any quippy comeback. Instead, he hugged them both tighter, feeling their warmth engulf and sooth him.

*

When he told Sebastian and Chris his story he cried a little, but it felt okay, somehow, cleaner than his tears in the weeks previous. Both Chris and Sebastian’s own eyes appeared rather overly bright, but they managed to hold back, from allowing the water to spill down their cheeks.

Flowing easily from one man to the other, Sebastian and Chris then recounted what happened to them in the military hospital, where they had been kept and medically tested. As they spoke of the inevitable downturn, after everything crashed, Robert felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. He always hated it when his warnings turned out to be right.

But, he guessed he should be relieved. They had survived, had managed to get out, to be with him.

“It was just… I couldn’t handle it. I had this massive anxiety attack,” Chris said.

All three were seated in one of the main student lounges, that Robert had spent some time, in the days previous, clearing of bodies, so that he could at least have a place to sit, without being reminded of the superflu. Sebastian, positioned so close to Chris that they were touching thighs, reached over and took his hand.

 “I’m just so glad Sebastian was there. He managed to calm me down.”

For a moment, both men stared at each other, before turning back to Robert.

“Robert, you should know that we…”

Sebastian’s cute flush told Robert all he needed to know.

“About time too! You guys have been making googly eyes at each other for years.”

_If they can find some form of solace in each other, in this ridiculously angst-ridden new world, then good for them._

“I know it’s probably weird, hooking up when there’s so much carnage around us,” Sebastian said, holding Chris’s hand down to his knee.

“Not at all,” Robert said. “It actually makes sense, in a way. With everything you guys went through.”

“We got out,” Chris said. “We’re alive. You were right-“

Robert shook his head. “You’re safe now. It’s alright. All of those asshole H.H Holmes wannabie military doctors are now dead.”

Sebastian’s shudder was tempered by Chris’s hand down his arm.

*

Robert should have guessed that he would regret placing them in the dormitory room next to his, considering what they had revealed to him that night.

He awoke to the sound of squeaking, creeping through the thin walls. For a moment, his foggy brain tried to remember where he was.

_Wha-?_

Rolling over, he clumsily felt around for the watch that he kept by the side of the bed. It was 1205 am. The squeaking grew faster.  A moan.

_Oh… oh no…_

Robert slumped down onto the bed, placing the pillow over his head.

“Oh Chris… yes…” Sebastian’s voice was too loud, coming through the far-too-thin plaster.

_Great…_

He pulled the pillow against his ears, pressing the fabric into the lobes, as the bedframe now thumped against the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Chris!”

Thudthudthudthudthudthudthudthud.

_It’s the damned Apocalypse and I managed to find the two people who are  clearly going to keep me awake with their loud sex!_

“Seb!”

The squeaking stopped. After a few moments, Robert heard soft laughter.

He supposed that he wasn’t so damned tired he would find the whole scenario rather tantalising.

_Damn you guys._

In the next room, he heard another loud giggle.

For the first time in a long while, Robert started to silently giggle, himself.

*

Later, when he woke up to moans coming from the next room, he decided this time he didn’t have to listen. Tempted to knock loudly on the wall ( _that would teach ‘em!),_ he instead swung his legs around the edge of the mattress and made his way to the bathroom down the hall, finishing his morning urination and then moving to the nearest cafe kitchen.

He was placing peanut butter on his thankfully still fresh bread, when Chris and Sebastian came into the room, both appearing rather rosy-cheeked and sparkle-eyed.

_Damn, you guys couldn’t be more obvious._

“I’m thinking I’m going to have to move you guys further down the hall.”

Sebastian and Chris reacted exactly as he thought they would. The Romanian’s cheeks now flushed bright red. Chris laughed, flung his arm around his partner’s shoulders and started to play with his hair.

“Kept you up, did we?”

Sebastian suddenly found the ground very interesting. Robert could see the red now outlining the edge of his earlobes. He inwardly tittered a little in bemusement.

“I’m glad you guys are having amazing sex but could you keep it down a little? Or move a few rooms down?”

“Well, I’m not going to keep it down. Don’t think it’s possible, with _this_ lovely man as a partner,” Chris shrugged. “So, I guess we’ll have to go down the hall.”

“I agree with you on both counts,” Robert said.

*

Jeremy and Tom arrived later that evening, at dusk.

The refined Englishman was, certainly, always a pleasure to have around, and Robert was genuinely thrilled to see him. However, as he reached to hug him, Robert caught Tom’s very obvious flinch. Watching Tom then hug Sebastian and Chris, Robert noticed an ugly bruise purpling the left side of his jaw. He reminded himself that both Sebastian and Chris had sustained a few bodily injuries in their time in the military hospital. The price of surviving the apocalypse. Surely, there would be a benign story, to explain Tom’s injury.

All five made their way to the main college building and Robert cast a curious glance at Tom, noticing that he moved very gingerly, which was completely atypical of his usual zippy energy.

After making certain that everyone was seated and comfortable, in the student lounge, and offering drinks and food (before Chris finally told him to ‘Sit your ass down, Robert! We’re all fine!’) everyone started telling their individual stories. Jeremy started, yet, despite his familiar tale of grievance and anguish, Robert found himself drawn more to Tom.  Scrutinising the younger man’s pale visage, he could not shake the instinct of some chilling forebode, an intuition on the edges of his mind, of a fundamental part of Tom that was somehow absent. When Tom had sat down, he had done so very slowly. But when it came time for him to recount his story, he didn’t mention anything that would account for his oddly delicate movements. He also didn’t explain the bruise.

_It’s the end of the world. The apocalypse. Do you expect Tom to be shaking his hips to a Ricky Martin classic?_

As Sebastian and Chris then recited their days being captured and used as lab rats for the American Government, followed by their daring escape, Robert noted Tom’s characteristic concentration, fixated fully on them. Seated on the couch next to him, Jeremy’s attention also seemed to be taken back, again and again, towards the Brit.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Tom said, his face suffused with characteristic compassion and warmth.

_See? Nothing’s wrong at all. Even despite the damned Apocalypse, he’s still the same old sweet Tom._

_And Jeremy’s still making eyes at him. Sorry, Jer, thought you’d figure out by now he’s not interested._

When it was time for Robert to tell his story, this time he managed to not quaver his voice, managed to pull the tears back from falling out of his eyelids. When he finished, all five in the room were silent, a long moment.

“Well, we’re here. We’re safe. We have to keep saying that,” Chris finally spoke, running a hand up Sebastian’s thigh.

“Yes, we’re all together,” Jeremy said, placing a hand on Tom’s upper thigh. Tom instantly gasped, his entire body flinching violently away from him. Jeremy withdrew his hand, brows furrowed, in an expression of bewilderment.

 “Alright, I’m getting pretty tired,” Chris said, clearly wishing to cut through the sudden tension that had enveloped the room. “Think I’ll go to bed.”

“Think I’ll join you,” Sebastian said. Both stood.

“Goodbye everyone.”

Robert opened his mouth to make a remark about their loud sex but then decided against it. Somehow, he had the impression that would be inappropriate. As they went to leave the room, Jeremy then stood up.

“I’m knackered. Think I’ll hit the sack. So, you said third room on the left for me?” Jeremy asked. Robert nodded.

“Tom, you coming?”

For a moment, Tom’s irises blazed with clear emotion, before flickering out, leaving them cold and empty. Robert suddenly felt a chill envelope his entire body, as though he had been doused with icy water.

_He’s scared of him. Tom is scared of Jeremy! That was fear, right there. What is going on between them?_

Certainly, Robert had never quite gelled with Jeremy. There was always something about him that didn’t quite sit right. Susan had even admitted to him, upon meeting Jeremy, that he “gives me the absolute heebee jeebees.” Even so, Robert never actually thought that Jeremy would be capable of hurting another, could he?

“Tom?” Jeremy gestured towards the younger man, who was sitting too primly on the lounge, with one leg folded under himself and one hand folded under the other, his neck bent.

“I’m thinking I’ll stay up,” Robert said. “Tom, come keep me company.”

Tom’s head snapped up. There was no denying the relief that now swept through his blue irises.

For a moment, as Jeremy continued to stand before Tom, staring down at him with an unclear expression, Robert was afraid that Jeremy would stay up too. But then Jeremy turned and stomped out of the room.

“Come on, Tom. It’s nice out front,” Robert said, trying hard not to be bewildered by Jeremy’s actions

Tom silently followed him through the room and then corridor to the front of the building, where Robert had placed a couple of chairs, a week or so before, in the dim hope of company.

Once outside, both sat down and Tom continued to be atypically silent. His knees were pulled up against his chest by his arms, his eyes downcast to the ground. This was completely at odds with the usually open body language of the gregarious, extroverted man that Robert knew. Even when he was talking about what had happened to him, earlier, he had kept the tale short, not adding his usual entertaining flourishes.

_What happened to you, Tom?_

 “Why did this happen?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know. We can say the government or just dumb luck. Everyone is gone. I just can’t think about it too much. It will drive me crazy,” Robert admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said, lifting his head to focus on Robert, face softening. “I can’t even begin to fathom what you’re going through, right now.”

“We’ve all lost people,” Robert said. “We’re all bereaved. It gets pretty bad at times, doesn’t it?” Tears unexpectedly trickled down his face.

_Well, great. Here we go again._

Tom’s face collapsed in a paroxysm of utter grief and compassion and he reached out and grabbed Robert’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Tom’s hand felt very warm. Very strong.

“I just keep thinking why me? Of my entire family, why was I the one to survive? I would have taken the place of any of them,” the tears continued, as Robert’s voice broke.

“I know,” Tom said.

Robert wiped the water from his face, telling himself not to cry. What good would it do?

“You know, with my life. I did terrible things, when I was younger-“

“To yourself,” Tom said. “Robert, you were never one to harm another person deliberately.”

“How do you know?” Robert asked, laughing a little, without humour.

“That’s true. Only you know the absolute truth that was your life. But I can only go by the compassionate, loving man before me.”

_Well, he certainly has a way with words._

“The whole world. Gone.” Tom’s hand twitched in his, clearly wanting to be released, so Robert let it go. “No more Marvel films. No more of any films. Everything that we built our life on is just so redundant now. Seems a little silly.”

“Yes, I guess so. What do we do, in this new world? The human need is to find others. Develop society once more. But then what? If we can start anew…fresh slate. No fighting. No more war.”

“Meditation, that’s the key. Mindfulness.”

Tom’s lips upcurled, showing his teeth, and lighting up his entire visage. Robert felt a puzzle piece in his mind suddenly click into the right space, as he realised the simplicity of what had been missing the entire afternoon, when it came to the Brit beside him.

Tom’s smile.

Robert used to joke that the world would disintegrate if Tom didn’t smile at least once every minute and laugh at least every five minutes.

That entire afternoon, Tom had not laughed or smiled once, not even when they all reconciled, when everyone else was full of jokes, smiles and laughter.

“I really could be that simple, couldn’t it? Calm the mind. Peace will follow. Inner and outer,” Tom said.

“So now we’ve solved all the problems of humanity now what?” Robert jested. “I guess we could take a long break from filming any more Marvel films for a while. Loki and Tony could hook up and go for a long holiday together. Come back and plot shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans huh?” Tom smiled once more. “What kind of shenanigans?”

“Sexy ones,” Robert’s smirk achieved the desired effect when Tom laughed.

“Well that would be… an _interesting_ turn for the franchise.”

“You know, we missed you on the set of Age of Ultron,” Robert admitted. “Sweet, smart, pretty, talented Tom. It’s _embarrassing_ how much everyone adored you. And then, when you first appeared on set, in Infinity War…”

He trailed off, as all of the humour evaporated from Tom’s face.

“Did you really think I was self-centred?” Tom asked, with a wounded tone.

It took Robert a moment to realise that this wasn’t some odd joke.

“What? What the hell are you talking about? Why would I think…? If anyone is going to be accused of being self-centred it would be me! Who told you…?” A sudden realisation came to him. “Did Jeremy tell you that? Because that’s not true, Tom.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom said, his eyes taking on that disturbing lack of sheen that had been evident, at times, in the evening.

“What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing!” Tom snapped. “Why would you think there was anything between us?”

“Tom…” Robert frowned, wording his next words carefully, in his mind, as he leant forward, confidentially. “You know, I never really trusted Jeremy. There was always something about him-“

“Robert, I really don’t know what you-“ Tom waved a dismissive hand between them.

Forget it, Robert, the gesture said. Only, Robert wasn’t going to let this one go.

“Did he… did something happen between you two?” He lowered his voice. “How did you get that bruise on your face?”

Tom’s eyes widened, the blood draining from his face.

“Tom? Tom what’s wrong?”  Robert rose out of his chair and crossed the two step distance between them.

“Nothing… please it’s not…” Tom’s facial flesh was now so white that the bruise stood out in disturbing contrast.

“Tom…” Robert went to grab his hand again.

“Don’t touch me!” Tom snatched his hand away.

“Tom look at me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong,” Tom folded his arms around his chest and started to rock back and forth, his entire body trembling.

Robert was now convinced. Something had happened between Jeremy and Tom.

“Please just don’t touch me. Please…” Tom begged.

“Okay, I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want me to.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tom continued in the worrisome rocking motion.

“What do you want me to do? Just let me know how I can help you.”

“Just… please sit down, Robert. I can’t… just please sit down.”

“Okay.” Feeling utterly useless, Robert crossed back to his chair and sat down again.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said, again. This time, Robert felt irritation spike his gut.

_If he says that one more time…_

_No. Don’t be an asshole. Not now._

Robert closed his eyes and slowly counted his breath, to calm himself. In out. In out. Oxygen Carbon dioxide. In out. In. Out. In. Out.

“I messed up this wonderful evening,” Tom said. “I’m so sorry, Robert.”

Robert opened his eyes. Seeing the man beside him; the bruised jaw, the still shaking frame curled up in a tight ball, Robert wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to pull Tom to himself and embrace him. However, instinct told him that that could, in fact, cause greater harm, at this point.

“You did no such thing. I’m just worried about you. Something is clearly very wrong.”

Tom shook his head. “Please don’t ask me about it. Please…”

Robert heard his pleas as a knife tearing into his chest cavity.

_Oh no, Tom…What the hell is this?_

“I’m sorry that I’m not…” Tom trailed off.

“There’s no need to be sorry about anything, alright? Tom, if Jeremy did something to you. I’m on your side. I know you both and, whatever it is, I’m on your side.”

Tom covered his face with his hands and Robert decided that a certain Avengers actor was going to get his ass whooped upon waking the next morning. Clearly, whatever happened between him and Tom was incredibly bad, indeed. His mind went back to earlier that evening, Jeremy’s smug expression as he placed a hand on Tom’s knee, Tom’s vehement reaction.

A new idea came to Robert, a spark that he didn’t want to tend to, didn’t want to cultivate to be a raging fire. Because Jeremy simply wouldn’t go there. No, he may have his faults but he wouldn’t… no...

“It’s getting a little chilly. How about we go inside?” Robert suggested.

For a moment, Tom didn’t move, before placing his hands down and, with a blank face, copying Robert’s movements as he stood up and moved back inside. Both silently walked back down the hall to the lounge area. There, Tom stood, clearly awkward, as Robert sank down in one of the more comfortable lounge chairs.

“There aren’t enough people for musical chairs at the moment, Tom.”

Tom very gingerly sat opposite, in the chair that Sebastian and Chris had been in earlier, his expression remaining disappointingly neutral, at Robert’s joke.

“You okay?” Robert asked.

“I’ll never be okay. Not ever again.”

_Oh no, don’t say that. Please don’t say that._

Robert again wanted to ask what had happened to him, beyond the horrors of the apocalypse, but correctly guessed that Tom wouldn’t answer.

“I guess none of us will be,” Robert admitted.

“Listen to me. So desolate. I should be happy. I am. I’m more than thrilled and relieved to have found you guys.”

“So are we, Tom.”

Robert recalled many a year before, on the initial Avengers set. The hideous flirting between them caused many a brow to be raised. A few crew members even asked Robert when would they put everyone else out of their misery and just be intimate? Somehow, it never happened. Robert had wanted Tom, had an ache for him that enflamed his flesh every time that the other man was near. Even now, he still felt that distant yearning. But, he knew to be prudent. It simply wasn’t the right time or place.

“I’m more than thrilled to have the man once voted as having the most beautiful ass, as well as best villain for the MTV Movie Awards, be part of our group,” Robert said, hoping to cause Tom to smile.

The wager paid off, although the grin was obviously self-deprecating.

“It helps that you’re rather gorgeous to look at. Sort of like having a fine painting in an art gallery. Aesthetic appreciation is always rather classy for the soul, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, because I’m like Michelangelo’s David, especially standing next to Sebastian and Chris,” Tom rolled his eyes.

Robert blinked. This was the first time that Tom had ever shown any sign of insecurity, when it came to his own looks.

“One doesn’t have to exclude the other. Yes, they are one of those annoyingly beautiful couples, who will no doubt get their own couple-name, once we start meeting other people. Evanstan. Sebchristian,” Robert giggled a little at the last one. Tom’s lips quirked. “But you, please don’t take offense when I say that even when angsting over the end of the world, you are just looking too damned gorgeous. Maybe even _because_ of the end of the world.”

Tom laughed. “Ah, thanks…I think.”

Both laughed together. It felt good. Great, even.

“I think I’d better go to bed. Fourth room down the right?” Tom asked.

Robert resisted the sudden impulse to direct him to his own room but correctly surmised that it would be more for himself, than Tom, to momentarily allay his deep grief with the feel of another warm body against his.

No, he couldn’t do that to Tom. He deserved better.

“Indeed. Have sweet dreams. Preferably of me.” Even so, Robert couldn’t resist flirting.

Tom’s lower lip momentarily flicked downwards. “There’s a lock, right, on the inside?”

“Yes of course.” _Why would you think that anyone would want to come in?_

Robert’s mind returned the theory, that it had been developing earlier, drawing little moments of the evening together; Jeremy touching Tom on the leg, Jeremy asking Tom to join him when he went to bed.

“Good, good,” Tom said. “Have a good night. Maybe you’ll dream of me.”  This time, the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

_If I do then you’ll be laughing and smiling. The way you used to._

_*_

Robert was coming down the corridor from one of the staff kitchens, a bowl of cereal in hand, when upraised voices caught his attention.

“It doesn’t matter, Chris!” Sebastian shouted.

“Yes, it does! Just let me look at it! That asshole punched you, Seb!”

“Yes, well I did a hell of a lot worse to him.”

Robert shuffled a little faster and entered the lounge entrance, to Chris and Sebastian standing in the centre, One of Chris’s hands gently propped up Sebastian’s chin, while the other was examining his left cheek, a frown distorting his handsome features. Robert’s mind uncomfortably went back to the bruise on Tom’s chin. “I’m fine, Chris, honestly.” Sebastian grabbed his hands and flung them off his face. “I’m not worried about _me_. I’m worried about Tom!”

“What’s going on?” Robert asked, moving further into the room.

“I don’t know. I found Seb-“ Chris began.

“It’s that asshole, Jeremy,” Sebastian now turned to fully face Robert. A yellow bruise now marred his left cheek.

“What about him?” An odd sinking sensation plunged through Robert’s body. He had a feeling that he knew where this was heading, somehow.

“I was on my usual early morning walk and Tom was out on an early morning jog, it seemed and Jeremy…” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “We need to find Tom. He’s ran off. So has Jeremy.”

“Seb, what the hell happened?” Chris asked.

“Like I said they were arguing. Jeremy was asking why Tom was ignoring him and Tom kept saying that they’d talk back at the college. Then Jeremy said…” Sebastian’s eyes flicked to Robert, before returning to Chris. “He started to get rather verbally abusive. And that was when Tom said…”

“Said what?” Robert prompted, as Sebastian bit his lip, brows furrowing.

“He told Jeremy to keep away from him. Said that he’d… he’d raped him. That he was a sick man and he’d raped him.”

Robert closed his eyes, all of his innards deciding to bundle together in a knot. All of Tom’s abnormal actions the day before suddenly made horrific sense.

“Oh my god!” Chris said.

“I…I just… I jumped between them. Told Jeremy to leave. He told me it was none of my business. So, I punched him. He punched me back. Tom ran off. I tried to follow him, but I lost him. I couldn’t find Jeremy either.”

Chris’s face had acquired an ashen colour. “You don’t think Jeremy might… if he finds Tom…”

“Let me find him. You two take care of each other,” Robert said, placing his bowl down on a nearby chair.

“No, we should-“ Sebastian began.

“Tom trusts me. Chris, just make sure that Sebastian is alright,” Robert said, gesturing to the Romanian’s face.

*

Tom was anything if predictable. Robert found him seated on a bench in the centre of the local park, under a broad tree with magnificent bright orange flowers, that seemed to overshadow the slim figure hunched up beneath, with its grand majesty.

Robert came up and sat down next to him. For a long while, neither spoke.

“Sebastian told you what he overheard. I can’t even imagine what you must think of me, right now,” Tom said, sounding heartbreaking in his destitution.

“What do you mean? I honestly don’t understand, Tom,” Robert replied.

“I’m sorry that I let him do that to me,” Tom folded his arms around his chest.

Robert took a few deep, deliberate breaths, resisting the urge to start punching the nearby tree trunk.

“You know, it’s interesting,” he said. “Last night, I thought that I would seriously kick Jeremy’s ass next time I saw him. Sebastian punched him. Good. In a way, it would be best if Jeremy stayed away from us. Considering the extent of the carnage that we’re going to rain down upon him.”

Tom finally looked up from his troubled inspection of the ground. “No, Robert. No! That wouldn’t be right. Please promise me that you won’t hurt him!”

Of course, this response was in keeping with the Tom that Robert knew.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Tom shook his head. “I can barely even comprehend it in my own mind.”

“He raped you.”

Tom nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks. “More than once.”

“That son of a bitch!” Robert slammed his fist against his thigh. “That sick, disgusting worm of a… no amoeba of a parasite… no not even parasite…”

_Okay, calm down. Your anger isn’t going to do much good for Tom, right now. Just think. Think logically._

Robert unclenched his fist and his palm on his knee.

“So, as it stands, Jeremy is who-knows-where and Sebastian is thankfully unharmed but for a rather rocking bruise on his left cheek. If it were up to me, Chris and Sebastian, Jeremy would be effectively evicted from our little mini commune set up. But, it’s up to you, Tom. If you want him gone. He’ll be gone.”

He could see the intelligence in Tom’s pale blue irises as he weighed up his options.

“It would be unfair, to leave him to the loneliness and danger of this post-apocalyptic world. No, I couldn’t do that to him.”

“I would argue that he deserves it. But that’s your choice.”

“No… I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Alright, but he’s not going anywhere near you. I’m going to make that clear. Those are my rules. I’m more than certain that Seb and Chris would agree.”

“So, you don’t think I’m… you don’t think lesser of me for… I’m just sorry I let this happen…” Tom asked him, utter vulnerability and need radiating from his entire frame.

Robert once again clenched his fists, feeling fury course through his body. A part of Robert felt the anger direct at Tom, himself, for insinuating that he would think lesser of a rape victim, would think that they somehow brought on their attack.

But then, he told himself not to take his anger out on Tom. This was Jeremy’s fault. And his alone. Jeremy had clearly manoeuvred his way into Tom’s head and scrambled around with his brain, tampering with a few neurological pathways here and there.

“No, not lesser of _you_. Lesser of _him_.  Tom, I’ve always held you in such high regard. Even that Taylor Swift thing… whatever that was…”

“We really were trying to make it work! It wasn’t a fake relationship-“

“I know, I know…” Even so, at the time, Robert couldn’t help but jest with him a little, via Instagram. “You didn’t let anything happen. That asshole clearly took advantage of your vulnerability post- apocalypse in the most horrific way.” _And it really makes me want to tear off a certain part of his body with my bare hands._ “Look, I’ll help you with this, alright? Me, Sebastian, Chris. All we want is to make sure that you're safe and that he can’t touch you again.”

Tom took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair. Robert suddenly noticed how much it had grown since he had last seen him, the blond curls darting this way and that, each individually, it seemed, wanting to forge a different path from the other. Tom gave him a grateful smile and all momentarily seemed right with the world, despite the anguish around them. In Robert’s mind, Tom had that effect on others, brightening up the darkened corners of the world with his constant, effervescent light.

“I guess we should go back,” Tom said.

“We don’t have to go just yet. We can just sit. It’s pretty groovalicious under this tree, don’t you think?” Robert added a little joviality.

Tom then surprised him by reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Thank you, Robert. I’ll tell you what happened. Just… not now. I can’t… not now.”

“That’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen”

_Why did Jeremy hurt such a sweet and caring man in such a disgusting way?_

“I’m not going to say it’s all going to be alright. But I’m here. I guess that’s the most we can hope for, can’t we, right now?” Robert asked.

“Yes, I guess that’s the most we can hope for,” Tom smiled once more, melancholy tinging the genuine hope, in his eyes.

Tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up will be Sebastian's pov


	3. Sebastian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who are reading/commenting/adding kudos. :)

The soldiers guarding the front of the Presbyterian Hospital, appearing rather glum and bored, broke out into identical smiles, as Chris and Sebastian trotted up to the front entrance.

“We’re here to volunteer,” Chris flashed them his charismatic smile. “You’re looking for people who are immune. Well, we’re here.”

“Captain America? And Bucky?” The younger guard with the terrible acne burst out laughing, which quickly devolved into intense coughing, green phlegm sneaking out through his fingers covering his mouth, to land in great wads on the concrete below.

“Straight to reception. They’ll direct you,” the other soldier said, stepping away from the other soldier and eyeing him with great distaste.

Continuing past them into the building, Sebastian ignored the coughs and sneezes of the heavily congested ensuing corridor, focusing on looking straight ahead, at the rather pale woman behind the information desk. Upon recognising them, as they came up closer, like the guards, she also perked up.

“Oh my god, it’s you, isn’t it? It’s- Captain America is immune! Shelly!” She called out to the woman next to her, who sneezed into a tissue, tucked it into her uniform and then stared at Chris, with her mouth unhinged.

More of the same followed, as they explained their reason for being there. It seemed the presence of celebrities seemed to momentarily displace those around them, both staff and visitors, from their funk. A few asked for autographs, hands reaching out to touch, as though to verify that they were real.

“Yes, yes, let’s just… Hold on a moment…” As Chris talked, he grabbed Sebastian’s elbow and directed him away from the main counter, past the hungry crowd.

In that moment, another armed soldier came down the corridor to the left and, not appearing as though she particularly cared who they were, judging by her stern expression, ordered them to come with her.

More than agreeable to be away from the admiring crowd of sick folk, they followed her back down the corridor to the main set of elevators. The doors on the right pinged and then opened. A couple of nurses, moving out and passing them as they walked in, mirrored identical shocked expressions of recognition. The soldier pressed the number seven on the keypad and, as the door closed behind them, Chris grinned at Sebastian and shook his head.

On the seventh floor, they were then directed down another corridor, then another, then through a series of double doors. Finally, they reached yet another reception desk opposite a waiting room, where the same fanfare occurred; both staff and patients crowding around them, wanting autographs and photos. Finally, after a good twenty minutes of obliging his fans, Sebastian had the opportunity to sit down and fill in the form, given to him by one of the staff, who had momentarily broken from her star-stuck attitude, as Chris continued to sign autographs and pose for photos. Good, good, he told himself. Although Sebastian was more than grateful for the people who kept him working, in that moment, he was almost relieved that people seemed more interested in Chris, than himself.

“Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan?” A woman’s authoritarian voice instantly quelled the hubbub of general frivolity, and the gawkers and fans scurried away. Sebastian looked up, to see a chubby woman, with glasses and a doctor’s lab coat, stepping into the waiting room. Feeling awkward sitting, he stood up and nodded.

“My name is Doctor Martin. We are very appreciative of what you’re doing for us here. So, you’ve had no symptoms of the virus, for the past forty-eight hours?”

Both Chris and Sebastian nodded.

“Well, if it’s alright, we’ll take some tests, to make sure the virus is definitely not in your system. If you would follow me.”

Sebastian bit his upper lip. He hadn’t considered that the virus might lay dormant. Perhaps they simply had a different strain, or the virus was somehow operating in their body in a different way, to others. As she directed them back down the hall and around the corner, to a small ward, he ignored the uncomfortable squirming of his innards.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing a room,” she said. “Oh and, do you mind giving us your mobile phones? Hospital policy. You’ll get them back at the end.”

Both Chris and Sebastian shrugged, dug around in their pockets for their mobiles and handed them to her, before visually examining their new room as she left, which consisted of two hospital beds, with two metal drawers adjoining and resuscitation and oxygen equipment overhead, a large cabinet opposite and… nothing else, other than the obvious two-way mirror, along the south wall, with a clock above. No television, no monitors or intravenous stands, or, indeed, any other medical equipment. It all seemed a little bare, for a hospital room. Sebastian’s frown deepened and he glanced at Chris, noting an identical line furrowing his brow.

*

Almost immediately, they were subjected to the expected medical tests. First, the nurses checked their temperature, and then hooked them up to a blood pressure machine and took what they called their ‘vital signs’, (whereupon the nurses invariably remarked that they were insanely fit, teasing that they really were Captain America and Bucky, pretending to be actors). Even as they then took blood from their veins, the atmosphere remained somewhat light, jokey.

“Super blood,” one of the nurses said, wryly. “Captain America fights the war of the super virus…” She turned her head and sneezed three times, as Chris winced away from the sight of his own blood, draining into a test tube. Lying in the bed next to Chris, Sebastian was completely fine with observing the nurse stick the butterfly needle into his own vein.

After collecting the blood and writing up their charts, the nurses then piled a bunch of books and magazines on the drawer between their beds, telling them that the doctor would be in, later, to talk to them. As Chris picked up one book, and then another, appearing to decide between Steinbeck and King, Sebastian flicked open a Batman comic and started to read. Feeling eyes on him, his gaze travelled across, from where he sat on his bed, to Chris grinning at him.

“I’m just waiting for the red dot to appear on your forehead, from when the Marvel snipers realise that you’re reading a DC comic,” Chris said.

Sebastian giggled.

“Which one is it, anyway?”

Sebastian held the comic cover up. “One of those cheesy ones from the nineteen forties.”

“One of the _best_ ones, you mean,” Chris said. “This wasn’t a half bad idea. Do you think they’ll actually find something, with our blood? The cure?”

Sebastian considered the question. “I hope so. I really do.”

“Yeah…I hope it happens sooner, rather than later. I’m thinking after this going back to Boston. Mum and dad say they’re fine but…I’m just… worried…”

“Yeah, my parents say the same thing. I guess they don’t want me to be worried about them. Like that’s not going to happen.”

He’d spoken to his mother merely an hour before going to the hospital. She’d said it was a good idea, and then sneezed twice into the receiver. In the background, he could hear his step-dad coughing.

No, he told himself that he didn’t want to think of them. They would find a cure. Everything would be fine. Fine.

“Yeah…” Chris’s lips uptilted in a wry smile, as he shook his head.

The door leading into the room opened and a nurse came in, bearing a tray of biscuits and sandwiches, as well as tea and coffee.

“Yes! What I was waiting for,” Chris said.

“Me too, I’m starving,” Sebastian admitted, telling himself Chris was right, this truly wasn’t a half bad idea.

*

Doctor Martin visited them briefly, after they finished lunch, insisting that they stay in a few more days. Sebastian had grimaced at that idea but ultimately considered that the chance of them finding a cure, was worth it for his lack of freedom.

_“We’ll be fine,” his mother said, a sneeze then coming down through the receiver. “If you don’t have it then there’s a great chance you could be the key for the vaccination.”_

Besides, he truly wasn’t too bothered with being forced to spend more time with the always sweet and endearing Chris.

“Okay, if we’re talking about the characters… Fuck Thor, kill Loki, of course. Marry the Hulk. Hey, he’d be very protective of me!” Chris said.

Sebastian raised his brows.

“I’m not even going to say a word…”

“Okay, you’re turn,” Chris said, blue-green irises gleaming with good humour.

“Hm…” Sebastian considered the premise. “Well, Thor’s ruler of Asgard, isn’t he? That’s pretty powerful. Marry Thor. Kill the Hulk, Sorry Hulk,” he said, to Chris’s mock shock. “But it would be either that or he’d kill me. And fuck Loki. He’s a trickster god so he’d make it interesting.”

Chris laughed, clutching at his left breast. Sebastian couldn’t help his inner bemusement, at the familiar sight. “Oh, that is, that’s gold. Well, Tom would be happy to hear you say that. He’s apparently also immune, did you know? So is Renner. Hemsworth. Not sure about any of the others. Haven’t heard anything from Scarlett… Anthony…”

His face instantly became downcast, as though every muscle had simultaneously decided to sag at exactly the same time, making him appear at least ten years older.

“Maybe you could ask to make some phone calls,” Sebastian said, telling himself not to consider his own family and friends… what they would be doing at that moment… whether it would involve coughing until it felt like one’s lungs were going to burst from the effort…

_… his step-father’s hacking cough in the background of his mother’s talking…_

The door leading outside opening was a welcome respite from his thoughts, as one of the young nurses, who had been taking care of them for the past few days, came in carrying a tray of needles and tubes, clearly at the edge of tears, as she coughed into her hand and then violently sneezed five times.

“Hey, you okay?” Chris asked.

“Of course I’m not okay!” She snapped. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” tears now coursed down her cheeks. “I’ll be alright. I just need to…. Just take some bloods.” Her hands shook as she reached onto the tray, and one of the needles fell onto the ground and rolled onto the floor under Sebastian’s bed. “Shit! It’s okay.” She picked up the second needle and Sebastian automatically extended his arm. “I’ll come back for you,” she said to Chris.

“No problem.”

After taking Sebastian’s blood and leaving the room, he noticed that the nurse also didn’t bother about retrieving the needle that had fallen onto the ground.

*

Two hours later, the lights in the hospital momentarily dimmed, followed by an odd vibration that thrilled along the ground, momentarily shaking their cots.

“What was that?” Chris asked.

That was when the screaming started, fearful, panicky. Sebastian felt goosebumps lift the hairs on the back of his neck.

“What the hell is going on?” Chris asked.

Sebastian shook his head.

“That’s it! We’re getting out of here. I’ve had enough-“ Chris stomped over to the door, then started jiggling on the handle. “It’s locked! Those assholes have locked us in! Hey!”

Realising he wasn’t going to get much help through the wooden frame, he went to the glass window that only showed their reflection and started slamming his fists against it. “What’s going on here?”

For a good ten minutes, he banged, before finally giving up, moving back to the bed and collapsing down. “What the hell?”

Sebastian didn’t have an answer, although he found that he was not surprised in the least by the turn of events. He thought about the mobile phones that had been confiscated off them early on.

_We're in trouble, aren't we?_

For half an hour, he silently watched the long hand of the clock above the mirror go around, as Chris paced. Finally, the door opened and a new doctor in a lab coat came in, around fifty years old, with long brown hair tied in a plait down her back. She was accompanied by two soldiers, casually bearing weapons.

“Who are you?” Chris asked.

“I’m the one who’s in charge now,” the woman replied.

 “Where’s Doctor Martin?”

“Dead.”

Sebastian’s heart slid down a notch or two. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear.”

“A lot of people are dead, or dying.” Next to her, one of the soldiers sneezed, twice into a handkerchief. “Which is why we need to keep going with the tests.”

“I just want to use a phone, if that’s alright?” Chris asked. “I need to make sure that my family-“

“Not possible,” the woman shook her head. “There’s been a problem with telecommunications. Some bright spark managed to knock out all of earth’s telecommunications satellites. So, no mobile calls, no internet. We’re effectively cut off.”

Sebastian found that he could only stare at her, in dumb astonishment. “How is that possible?”

The woman shrugged. “Doesn’t matter! What matters is finding a cure.”

“No, no I can’t,” Chris shook his head. “I need to see my family!”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not-“

“You can’t keep us here! This is a violation of our civil rights! I’m leaving-“

Chris moved to storm out of the still ajar door. The soldiers both stepped forward in unison and grabbed his arms.

“Hey! You can’t do this. Let go of me!” Chris shouted, as the soldiers hauled him backwards and threw him down onto the bed. “Let go of me!”

“Let go of him!” Sebastian now rushed off his bed to aid his friend. One of the soldiers elbowed back and caught him in the nose. He fell back, gasping, as blood spurted down his upper lip. Upon seeing Sebastian be hurt, Chris started to swear and shout at the men, who now had both his legs and arms pinned.

“Stop this!” Sebastian screamed, wiping at the blood on his upper lip, with the back of his hand. He gingerly touched his nose. It felt tender but thankfully not broken.

The door to the room swung more open, and a nurse came in, carrying a tray bearing a syringe.

“I really didn’t want to do this,” the doctor said, picking up the syringe and flicking it.

They’ve planned this, Sebastian realised. That other nurse came in too quickly with a syringe already prepped with a drug.

“What’s that?” Sebastian asked. “What are you doing?”

The woman came over to the still struggling Chris and grabbed his shirt sleeve, tearing it up and jabbing the needle into his bicep, before emptying the contents inside.

“No! You can’t do that to him!” Sebastian shouted, standing and wanting to come over, to save him, but fear of being beaten… or worse, by the soldiers, kept him rooted to the spot.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the woman said, as Chris continued to fight them. Slowly, his struggles started to weaken, before eventually he went still. The military men then let go of Chris and moved off the bed. Sebastian rushed over to him, lifting his wrist and verifying his strong pulse.

“Now, make any more fuss and we’ll do the same to you,” the doctor warned Sebastian.

“What have you done to him?”

“Sedated him. He’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“You complete bitch!” Sebastian shouted. For a moment, he was certain that the soldier was going to give him another whack to the upper lip. Instead, she simply shrugged and gestured to the soldiers to leave the room with her.

 “Chris?” He ran a hand through his soft hair. “What are we going to do?”

*

He wasn’t sure how long before the doctor returned. Perhaps two hours, perhaps three. Chris had not awoken, in that time and Sebastian had started to pace, himself. He had tried examining the door, to work out a way out, had considered using something to smash against the glass, but there was nothing small enough to pick up. Panic had now snuck into his body and was starting to consider different ways to run amok. Sebastian had always considered himself to be a rather calm person. Only now, he simply couldn’t sit still, his mind pinging from one anxiety to another to another, like an out of control pinball machine.

The handle turned and the door slammed open, before the doctor came into the room, again accompanied by only one of the two soldiers. She sneezed three times, with a zealous glint to her dark eyes. Fearing punishment, Sebastian climbed back into his bed.

That was when he noticed the syringe in her hand, bearing a rich red liquid.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Why you? Why you and why him?” She gestured to the still unconscious Chris. “Just a couple of pathetic actors. Children are dying with this.”

“I know. That’s why we wanted to try-“

“Why are _you_ immune? What gives you the right?” The woman shouted. “Hold him down!” She ordered the soldier, who instantly sprang into action, grabbing Sebastian’s arms and pressing him down onto the bed.

“We tried everything! But we still don’t have a vaccine. You don’t deserve it!” She said, as Sebastian struggled mightily against the soldier holding him down. “Stupid fucking asshole!”

“No!” Sebastian shouted, as the deranged doctor raised the syringe up, like a knife about to stab down into his neck.

“Let’s see if I inject a vial of my own blood into you, whether you can fight the virus then, you cunt!”

Sebastian kicked out with his legs and managed to somehow hit the arm holding the syringe. It went flying out of her hand and across the room.

“Son of a bitch!” She shouted, as it landed on the ground and then slid under the locked cabinet. “You dumb cunt!” She then turned back to Sebastian and spat in his face. He cried out, in horror, as the saliva slid down his cheek.

“What the hell, lady? This isn’t what I signed up for!” The soldier said, and Sebastian felt his hands release his arms, his weight move off his.

The doctor let out an almost primal cry of rage and mourning before turning and rushing from the room. For a moment the soldier stared at Sebastian, as though unsure what to do, before coughing into his hands and following her, locking the door behind himself.

Sebastian wiped the saliva from his right cheek and then placed his head in his hands, telling himself over and over that he wouldn’t cry. Finally strong enough to hold his head up, he remembered the needle that had fallen under the bed earlier. He reached under and carefully pulled it out, before placing it under his pillow.

He had an instinct that he would need it, later.

*  
Sebastian’s attention was continually flicking from the pillow under which he’d hidden the needle, to the door, when movement turned his head to the side.

“Chris!”

He jumped off his bed and crossed to the other bed, to help the clearly still somewhat weak other man to the sitting position he was struggling to get to.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“Don’t you remember? They drugged you!”

“Damn… assholes…” Chris’s words slurred.

“You alright?” Sebastian asked, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

“…alright… They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Sebastian considered whether to tell him about the fight with the doctor but decided against it.

“No, I’m alright.”

“… just want to leave….”

Sebastian sat alongside him, on the bed. “So do I.” He directed his focus out to the glass, to only see the room’s reflection, his own scared face. At that point, he was certain a bunch of medical personnel were watching them through the through two-way glass. Possibly even the crazy doctor.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps they had already decided to abandon them.

“Seb… do you think they’ll let us leave?”

Sebastian’s mind went to Robert’s warning; that they would kill them rather than allow them to leave. Rather than expected terror, a calm, almost weary resignation filled his body. He reached out and grabbed Chris’s hand.

“Seb…” Chris’s voice broke. “I just want to leave.”

“So do I,” Sebastian said, squeezing his hand harder.

*

“Let us out!” Chris screamed, slamming the bed leg against the glass.

For three days, no one had entered the room. At this stage, Sebastian would even be grateful for the crazy doctor. Hunger gnawed at his insides and his throat was starting to become raspy whenever he spoke, dry and desperate for water. Between the both of them, they had spent hours working on his bed frame, bloodying their fingers, to undo the bolt that kept the bed leg connected. Now that it was free, they realised, to their combined dismay, that no pounding against the surprisingly sturdy glass, or door, made any impact.

Chris screamed and threw the metal object hard at the glass. It slammed into it, creating a dent, before rebounding back and missing him by a few inches, and then landing on the ground behind him. 

“We’re going to die,” Chris said, turning to face Sebastian, his pupils dilated, chest heaving up and down, in too fast a motion. “Here, in this tomb. We’re going to die.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say, how to even begin to reassure him. Because, the fact was that he was right. What chance did they have? Surely, all of the medical personnel were dead, by now.

Chris closed his eyelids and loudly exhaled. “You know, I never…” He stepped back over and sat down on the bed, next to Sebastian. “I never gave much thought to my own death. It just never… I always assumed I’d be old and grey and it’d be heart disease or cancer… you know, the usual…. Do you think that there’s…after this?”

“I don’t know. Not truly. I hope so,” Sebastian said. “Otherwise, what would be the point… of all of this?”

“So many people…I can’t get my head around it…”

“There was never going to be a cure, was there?” Sebastian asked, needing to grab Chris’s hand, once more.

For a long time, they sat, holding hands, with no need to talk any more of their impending doom.

*

They fell asleep on Chris’s bed, huddled in close together, Chris’s arm around his back, their fingers still linked. Sebastian could feel Chris’s breath against his cheek as he exhaled. At least here, in their final days, they had each other.

At first, he thought that the noises were a part of a dream that he was having, in which he was standing before an ocean of ferocious waves. But then, the dream started to break apart, in his mind and he was brought back to the bed, to the warmth of the man beside him. Another scream sounded, louder. Closer.

Gun shots.

“No, no please… please…” A person pled. More gun shots.

Chris jumped up, gasping. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”

With his heart veritably tearing through his ribcage with each overly forced contraction, Sebastian stumbled out of bed, landing on one knee. Ignoring the pain shooting up his thigh, he scrambled across to the other bed, grabbing the needle from under the pillow. The shooting stopped.

“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, please…” Chris whispered, crawling off the bed and into the furthest corner, before crouching into a little ball.

Although Sebastian didn’t want to go anywhere near that door, he knew they had no other choice. Forcing his leg muscles to work, to lift his knees up and then down, orientating him towards the door, he shakily made his way over, to stand to one side.

The door jiggled. Chris’s scream goosepimpled the hair on Sebastian’s neck. His breath hyperventilated, but the hand that grasped the needle held strong. The door burst open and a man came through, clad in military uniform. Chris screamed again. Knowing that he would only have one chance, Sebastian lifted the needle and plunged it into the man’s eye. The man screamed and the gun went off, in to the ceiling, sending bits of plaster down on top of both of them. Sebastian then wrestled with the man for the weapon. As the man plucked the needle from his eye, Sebastian managed to tear the weapon from his hands, aimed, and pulled the trigger. A red dot appeared on the man’s forehead and brain and skull tissue blew out the back of his head, before he fell forward, and moved no more.

Sebastian stared at the downed man, and then at the gun in his hand.

_I just killed someone! Oh my god I just killed someone!_

“Seb…”

Sebastian sprinted over to Chris, who was bent over on his hands and knees, gasping.

“Can’t… breath…Having… panic attack…”

“Okay, okay, what do you want me to do?”

Chris shook his head and then grabbed his arm, pulling him close.

“Just need to…” He used his other hand to cover his mouth and nose and started to breath into it, keeping Sebastian’s eyes locked with his own.

“Chris, I killed him. I killed him!”

Chris shook his head. After a few minutes, his breath started to return to a somewhat normal state.

“No choice. He was going to kill us both.”

“But I…” Finally overcome, Sebastian allowed the tears to spill down his cheeks, the sobs to erupt from his throat.

Chris reached for him and embraced him, pulling him to his much-needed warmth.

*

Walking outside their room, they were greeted with a sight that would haunt their dreams for years to come. The corridor was littered with corpses. A trolley had overturned, spilling trays of food all over the floor. The food deliverer lay on his back beside it. Most of the bodies showed signs of dying of asphyxia, their faces blue and swollen, bright green mucous dripping from their noses and mouths.  A few were bloodied and bore clear signs of being victims of the earlier gunman.

“We need to keep going,” Sebastian said, trying his best to ignore the death around him, as he gripped Chris’s arm, manoeuvring him around the carnage. Deciding to forgo the elevator, they reached the exit and started to go down the stairs. A few unlucky souls had even managed to expire on the staircase. At the bottom of one flight lay an old woman, pinned beneath her wheelchair. Why she decided to try and make an escape down these stairs, Sebastian supposed he would never know.

On the ground floor, they pushed out the emergency exit, to yet more bodies piled along the walls, some huddled in groups of three and four.

“Follow the blue line. It will lead us out,” Sebastian said

By concentrating purely on the hospital’s blue line along the floor, and not on the smells, and sights of the corpses sprawled out all along the walls, they finally made it out the front, before both collapsed on the concrete outside.

“We’re alive… we’re alive…” Chris repeated.

‘Yes, oh my god…” Sebastian placed the gun on the ground beside himself and ran his hand through his hair.

Chris laughed, in clear relief over humour, leant forward, grabbed Sebastian’s chin and kissed him, firmly on the mouth. Sebastian responded with equal passion, gripping Chris by his shirt and pulling him closer. He could feel Chris’s hand, so tender, in his hair, the other unzipping his jeans. Sebastian followed suit, hastily undoing Chris’s pants and gripping his erection, before brutally stroking.

“Seb…” Chris moaned.

Both then started to stroke in time with each other, as Chris’s lips went to Sebastian’s neck, his other hand pulling up his shirt to caress the flesh of his back. Sebastian moved even closer, until he was seated on Chris’s thighs, pressing their bodies together.

Chris’s moan and the feel of his organ pulsing in his hand in orgasm, was enough to send Sebastian over, himself. He cried out, feeling himself spurt in Chris’s hand, before resting his forehead against Chris’s, as he came down from the overwhelming high.

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Chris said.

“So have I,” Sebastian admitted, as both removed their hands from each other’s jeans and zipped them up. Sebastian wiped his hand on his own jeans and giggled. “Well, that was… unexpected.”

“Heat of the moment,” Chris said and then loudly guffawed, himself.

*

Exhausted, they decided to crash at the Holiday Inn on the edge of the George Washington Bridge, outside of the main New York Island. The reception desk was empty. Chris manoeuvred around and grabbed a couple of the room keys, hanging on the wall behind. The first room they tried they quickly backed out, as soon as the smell of rotting flesh hit. Chris rushed to the corridor and threw up. The second room was thankfully corpse free.

As soon as they stepped in, Chris backed him against the wall and kissed him thoroughly. Sebastian responded with matching desire, before pushing him back.

“Bed,” he grinned.

“What do you want to do?” Chris asked, pulling up his shirt and tearing it up over his head.

“Well, we’ll need…” Sebastian rushed to the ensuite and quickly searched through the cabinet and cupboard underneath, finding complimentary hotel shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Shrugging, he brought all three out to the main room, where Chris now sat on the bed. “I was hoping for Vaseline.”

“Alright, we’ll find some then.” Chris shrugged his shirt back on. “We could go for a walk to the supermarket.”

“To find Vaseline for sex.”

“Well, yeah…”

They caught eyes and simultaneously fell over with laughter, reaching out to clutch at each other’s shoulders.

“Condoms?”

“I’m clean!” Chris said.

“So am I. At least, as far as I know…”

*

“Oh fuck… yes…” Sebastian cried out, thrusting his body back, to obtain more of Chris’s length, pounding inside of him. Chris’s hand gently cupped his hip, the other stroking him in time with his movements, as his soft lips kissed up his back, along his shoulder. Sebastian swivelled his head back towards his partner, who took his mouth in a very wet, hot kiss.

So, it turned out that the trip to the supermarket to obtain lube (and other items… including a compact but useful backpack, in which Sebastian could place the gun, as well as clothes and toiletries) did help to heighten their sexual tension. By the time they reached the hotel room, they were both itching to go at each other.

“Oh Seb…” Chris moaned, sucking on his neck. “I’m about to...”

“Oh fuck…” Sebastian felt himself reach his peak and then fly straight over, as, somewhere in his bliss, he heard Chris’s own cries of ecstasy.

Chris collapsed on his back, kissing his neck, as he pulled out.

Damn, that was hot, Sebastian thought, as he turned around, from his position, on his hands and knees, to embrace him.

“Mm… that was nice…” Sebastian said, running his hands down Chris’s sweaty back.

“Next time, I want to be the one on his hands and knees…” Chris said.

“Okay, that’s a promise.”

*

The following morning, Sebastian made good on that promise. Only, with Chris, he wanted to be facing each other. Slowly plunging into his tight heat, as Chris moaned, his legs tight around Sebastian’s waist, Sebastian ran a hand up Chris’s cheek, his facial hair scratching against the pad of his fingers. Chris’s eyelids fluttered open, his blue-green eyes shining with untold need.

“Chris….” Sebastian wanted to tell him how much he wanted him, how adorable and funny and sweet and charming and smart and lovely and… how he had wanted him for so long-

“Damn, you’re beautiful, Seb. Kiss me,” Chris demanded.

And so Sebastian did.

*

They found the motorcycles in a store just outside Pennsylvania. After verifying that yes, both could ride, they decided this would be the best way to proceed. 

“We’re going to Angola, aren’t we?” Sebastian asked, as he revved his motorcycle. “To try and find Robert?”

“If he’s there…” Chris frowned. “What if he isn’t?”

Sebastian loudly exhaled. “Then I guess we’ll have to figure out what we do then. Boston. See your family.”

“They’re dead,” Chris said. For a moment, his face contorted, with an expression of pure anguish, before righting itself. “There’s no need. Why would I want to see their dead bodies?”

Sebastian reached his hand across and grabbed Chris’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sebastian said, even knowing that it was redundant, that it wasn’t ‘okay’ and most probably would never be just ‘okay’ ever again.

*

To his credit, after Sebastian and Chris told their story of what happened in the hospital, Robert didn’t say “I told you so”, although, if he had, Sebastian wouldn’t have blamed him. Instead, Robert seemed overly pleased to see him. In this new world, even a few weeks without human company, Sebastian supposed, was tantamount to a year.

He had considered his own family, as the news of the super flu hit. Although he took it seriously, he was also convinced that they would find a cure, or at least a vaccine. Now… he supposed they were all dead. Of course, he would never know, particularly with his relatives back in Romania. What did his parents think, in the end? He wasn’t there to see them, had no way of contacting them in the hospital. Surely, they would have wanted him there, with them, not in the hospital, trying to discover a fruitless cure.

“You okay?” Chris asked.

Sebastian now lay on his chest, drawing patterns on his stomach. He supposed he should be relieved. They were currently in a college dorm room that was thankfully empty. Robert was bereaved but alive and they’d just had pretty spectacular sex, to the extent that Chris had been amused with the thought that their cries of ecstasy would have probably woken Robert, the next room over, out of his slumber.

Sebastian placed his chin on his chest and peered up to him, as Chris’s hand slid down to cup his ass. He could feel Chris’s come sliding down his inner thigh. It felt naughty, dirty somehow. In the morning, he vowed to dirty Chris up, in much the same fashion.

“God Seb, you’re so damned gorgeous, you do my head in…” Chris smiled. “It’s true. You’re unreal. Fuck!”

“Well, you’re Captain America, himself.”

“Not anymore,” Chris said, gently.

“No, I guess not.”

“Poor Robert. He’s gone through a lot.”

“So have we,” Sebastian felt a delightful fission run up his spine, following where Chris now trailed up his finger.

“I guess this is all a lot to get our head around. I try not to think about it. I know there will come a time in the future, when this will all hit me…I just, I kind of feel numb, right now,” Chris said.

“So do I. It’s all too much to take in, you’re right.”

“Do think it’s possible that others have survived?” Chris said, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Others that we know?”

“I don’t know, Chris. I really don’t know,” Sebastian admitted.

*

_The door flew open and the man burst through, gun aimed straight at the cowering Chris. Sebastian swung up with the needle-_

_-And missed, as the soldier ducked his head out of range, before grabbing the wrist holding the needle and twisting it sharply to the right. Sebastian cried out, as the needle fell to the ground, the gun barrel now pointed at his face. Sebastian’s knees started to wobble, his body electrified with terror._

_He was about to die. The man was going to blow his brains out and there was nothing that he could do about it-_

Sebastian gasped, reorientating himself to the dorm room, to Chris’s soft snores. Although his heart still raced, he told himself that he was okay. The soldier was most definitively dead.

Because he had killed him.

Hanging his head, he wiped his hand over his face. No choice, he told himself, no choice.

It didn’t stop the guilt from crushing his stomach muscles together, the thought of this man’s family, his friends, potential partner.

_He was probably going to die anyway!_

_No excuse._

Sebastian sat up and swung his legs around the side of the bed, glancing back at the sleeping Chris, whose lips were slightly uptilted. Even sleeping, he was utterly adorable. Sebastian quickly shoved some clothes on and grabbed his shoes from beside the bed, shoving them on also, before leaning down and kissing Chris on the cheek. His partner sighed.

“Sweet dreams,” Sebastian whispered, before pulling up the blankets to cover him and creeping out of the room, closing the door behind himself. Padding down the corridor and then out the front door, he stopped on the balcony, to admire the pink and purple steadily encroaching over the sky, as the sun started to lazily peek itself up over the horizon. Sebastian yawned and stretched, his muscles pleasantly sighing, before he zipped up his jacket and ventured onto the dewy grass, skirting around the edge of the building to the back, feeling the urge to explore, to ignore the troubles pestering his mind and just focus on what was directly in front of him. The flowers were in full bloom, the grass lush and green. Yes, he thought to himself. Rather a pretty area.

He continued in his saunter through the garden, when voices stopped him.

“…ignore me, Tom!”

Jeremy.

Sebastian felt a chill pass over himself. He couldn’t exactly put into words what it was about the other man that he didn’t quite respond well to. Certainly, Jeremy never exactly did anything or said anything that was particularly offensive. Even so, every time he had met the man, afterwards, he always felt as though he was in particular need of a brisk wash. He didn’t ever tell this to the others. They all seemed to like Jeremy. Who was he to tell them otherwise?

He was about to turn back the way he’d come, when Tom’s voice sounded.

“We’ll come back to the college, okay, Jeremy? I’m more than happy to talk back in the main building.”

Sebastian was somewhat indifferent, when it came to Tom. He seemed nice enough but he couldn’t exactly see why the others seemed to adore him, almost to the extent of idolisation. Even Chris’s eyes took on a certain lustre, when talking about the Brit. Sebastian failed to see what exactly was so amazing about this admittedly sweet, nice man… who did not appear to be particularly special.

Something in Tom’s tone, however, stilled Sebastian.

“No! Stop ignoring me! You’ve been ignoring me all yesterday!” Jeremy said.

“Hey, let’s go back to the college, alright?”

Sebastian slowly ventured forward. Turning around the corner, he spied Tom and Jeremy, standing on the path together. Tom was wearing track pants and a sweat-drenched t-shirt, signalling that he had been out running. Jeremy, still wearing the clothes from the day before, stood before him, arms folded.

“It’s _him_ , isn’t it?” Jeremy said.

“Jeremy, I really don’t know who-“

“Robert! Is this what it’s like now, is it? Is this what I mean to you? How could you do this to me? Damn it, Tom, I should have known. That’s the kind of person that you are.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Of course you wouldn’t! You just go from one to the other, with no thought to the actual human being that you’re hurting! I always knew you were kind of selfish but I never realise you could be _this_ selfish!”

“I don’t… I don’t understand…”

“How can you do this to me after everything we’ve been through? Throw me over for _him_? I get it. It’s the great Robert Downey. I guess his cock tastes like chocolate ice-cream or something…”

“You’re implying that I…? Fuck you, Jeremy!” Tom shouted, making violent hand gestures, in his fury.

Jeremy jumped, as though slapped.

_Good on you, Tom._

“You’re sick! You’re sick and you need help,” Tom said, now running a hand through his hair.

Jeremy grabbed his arm and, in a ferocious action, Tom tore it free, taking three steps backwards, away from the other man. “Don’t touch me! You don’t get to touch me again, understand?”

“Hold on, somehow this is _my_ fault?” Jeremy shouted. “That’s just like you to-“

“This _is_ your fault! You _raped_ me, Jeremy!”

Sebastian heard the words as a jolt of almost pure electricity, pinning him to the spot.

_Oh my god. What the hell?_

“You forced yourself on me and held me down and ignored me when I begged you to stop! Every time, I begged you not to and you kept going! It hurt. I’m still bleeding, understand? You saw me crying and it didn’t stop you. Why did you do this to me? Why?”

Sebastian wasn’t even fully aware that his feet were stepping one in front of the other, until he had placed himself between the two.

“Jeremy, back off!” He said, to the red-faced, sweating man.

“What the hell? You back off, Sebastian. This isn’t your concern.”

“What the hell, Jeremy-?” Sebastian began.

“I said back off!” Jeremy pushed him square in the chest. Sebastian responded by clenching his fist and flinging it hard at the man’s nose, feeling a satisfying crunch as it broke. Howling in pain, Jeremy’s own fist went flying. Sebastian felt pain explode in his cheek, as it landed. Hearing the patter of feet behind him, he swivelled around, to see Tom’s sneakers kicking up dust, as he rushed off the path and into the garden. For a moment, Sebastian stood, indecisive as to what to do. He sprinted away from Jeremy and towards Tom but, within a few minutes, it became clear that he had already lost the Brit.

_Damn, he’s fast!_

 Coming back to the path, he realised that Jeremy was gone, also.

*

“I just can’t believe it…” Chris said. “Jeremy was always so… I sort of considered him a friend! How could I not see…?”

Leaning against the counter opposite, with an icepack against his cheek, Sebastian didn’t feel the need to answer.

“You didn’t like him, did you?” Chris asked, eyes widening a little.

“There was something about him… I can’t explain it… I just had this instinct. He would be making jokes and… I don’t know… I never saw the humour in his eyes, you know?”

Two sets of footsteps sounded down the corridor behind them. They wandered out of the café kitchen and back into the student loungeroom, as Robert and Tom walked in, the latter’s entire body curled in on itself, his expression that of a wounded puppy convinced it was about to be scolded.

“So, we need to decide what to do now,” Robert said.

“Well, it’s simple, the way I see it,” Chris said, placing a hand around Sebastian’s shoulders. “Jeremy is not allowed here. He’s out.”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I can’t do that to him.”

Chris’s exasperated expression surely echoed Sebastian’s own.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” Tom said. “To cast someone out, friendless, to suffer alone in this new world.”

“Yes, because that’s far worse than allowing a _rapist_ to stay with us,” Chris said, sarcastically.

“He clearly misinterpreted some friendly overtures that I gave-“ Tom began.

“You’re actually _defending_ what he did?” Chris threw his hands up in an exclamation of disbelief.

Sebastian suddenly recalled what Tom said about being physically hurt, the very measured way in which Tom moved, even now.

“Tom… how hurt are you?” He asked, his intestines twisting around each other, to form painful knots.

A little of the colour disappeared from Tom’s face. “I’ll be fine.”

“Tom, you’re clearly in pain,” Sebastian deliberately softened his tone.

“Son of a bitch!” Robert suddenly exclaimed, kicking the armchair beside himself and sending it flying a good foot along the carpet.

“Oh my god…” Chris said. “He’s… I feel sick… No, no I can’t have somebody who would…stay with us. What if he tries to attack you again? Or one of us? Robert, maybe you can…”

“I told Tom that we’d protect him, make sure Jeremy doesn’t touch him again.”

Tom frowned, his brows knitting together. Sebastian could see his mind debating, the conflicting emotions clear in his pale irises.

“If you three are in agreement that Jeremy should leave, then I’ll concur,” Tom finally said.

Sebastian exchanged glances with Robert and Chris.

“I agree with Chris,” Sebastian said.

“I’m thinking that if we do kick Jeremy out of the group, then we shouldn’t stay here. We’ll go one direction and tell him to go another,” Robert said.

Sebastian and Chris both shrugged.

“If this is what you all want?” Tom asked. “Then I’ll agree.”

*

Jeremy returned an hour later. By this time, they had made some decisions on where they were going to go; north into Canada, avoiding the major cities, using a car from one of the caryards in town. As Sebastian predicted, Jeremy didn’t take the news of being kicked out of the group well.

“You’re not even going to listen to what _I_ have to say on the matter?” Jeremy asked. “I don’t have a choice on this? I thought you were my friends! How can you do this to me?”

“How could you do this to _Tom_?” Chris said.

“Tom… what the hell did you say to them?” He now turned to the man standing slightly behind Robert.

“Alright,” Robert’s voice rose. “You don’t talk to him, okay? There’s no discussion here. You’re out. That’s it.”

“I tried to help you, Tom!”

“Alright, I’ve already said-“ Robert was cut off, by Tom, who stepped forward, pinioning Jeremy in his gaze.

“Please, just leave, Jeremy. Please just go.”

“You wouldn’t have survived five minutes without me and you know it!”

“Please, please leave.”

Sebastian didn’t want to inflame the situation but at this point he felt he had no choice. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the revolver, holding it loosely in his hand.

“Please, Jeremy.”

Jeremy’s eyes flicked down to the weapon and then up again.

“Fuck you guys,” he said, before hawking back and spitting in Tom’s face.

“Hey,” Robert stepped forward but Tom placed a hand on his arm, yanking him back, as the other used his t-shirt to wipe the spit from his face.

“Forget it, it’s not worth it. Just leave, Jeremy. Just go.”

Sebastian raised the gun a little higher.

“Fine, I’m going! I just wanted to say you’re all terrible human beings.”

“Says a rapist,” Chris said.

“Hardly…” Jeremy snorted. “He’s not exactly weak. He could have fought me if he really didn’t want it.”

 For a moment, the words simply hung in the air, before a distinct sob from Tom broke the shocked atmosphere.

_He went there. He really went there._

This time, when Robert pushed Jeremy with such force that he stumbled back and tripped on his feet, falling off the porch and onto the grass beyond, Tom didn’t move to stop him. Sebastian raised the gun and pointed it straight at the floundering man.

“Leave. Now.”

Jeremy shook his head and lifted himself up off the ground, glaring at all of them in turn, before turning his back and angrily storming away.

Tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Back to Tom's pov.


	4. Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all who are reading/commenting/adding kudos.

“Hardly…” Jeremy snorted. “He’s not exactly weak. He could have fought me if he really didn’t want it.”

The surreal sensation of all of the space around him zooming out, tearing him from the others, floating him away and away, to the edges of the campus, the city, the world, the universe, to nothingness, jolted Tom’s already fractured mind. He heard a sob and realised that the noise was coming from his own throat. There was some kind of commotion in front of him but he wasn’t there… wasn’t…

_Could have fought him…_

But I did fight, he told himself. I tried to push him off but he hit me and I…

In his research for Kong: Skull Island, members of the SAS taught him defensive techniques-

That he somehow failed to use, when he needed them.

When Jeremy started hurting him, he recalled just going numb, unable to move his body, every muscle locked and tense, his jaw stinging from the first real punch that he’d ever received in his life.

_Jeremy’s hands, so rough on his body, groping at him, fingers poking inside of him. He screamed at the pain and degradation of the violation and the knowledge that this was only the start, that Jeremy wouldn’t stop until he had brutally taken what he wanted._

But what of the second and third times? He had just given Jeremy what he wanted, telling himself that it was better than the alternative of being alone, or Jeremy damaging his face further.

Pathetic.

_The floor, so hard beneath his feet, his knees aching, tears streaming down his cheeks, as Jeremy’s hands roughly tugged at his hair, shoving his head down further onto the part of him that Tom didn’t want to touch, let alone be forced to be so intimate with. His gag reflex became stimulated and he started to choke-_

Another sob escaped his lips. His legs started to pump up and down, to wander down the corridor, away from the others.

He was pathetic.

Jeremy was absolutely right. He could have fought him, could have run away could have…

_Gouged his eyeballs out, slammed his fist into his face again and again and again, shattered his jaw, ruptured his stomach, tore open his spleen._

_No, no no no no no._

Tom reached the room he’d tossed and turned in the night before, locked the door behind himself, and then walked over and sat on the bed, placing his head in his hands.

_“Very good, Tom,” Jeremy said, gently running his hands through his hair, as he still knelt before him, sobbing and dryretching._

He was a man, wasn’t he? What kind of a man let another man force him into sexual relations, through threat of violence? Because Jeremy wouldn’t truly have hurt him, would he? What would he have done if Tom had just said no?

_You did say no. You begged him not to hurt you. He just ignored you._

But still, he had stayed. Even after the first assault, he had not run off, his need for company outweighing his need to get away from his rapist. The other three were right. They couldn’t have a rapist stay with them, and yet he had enacted that very sin.

Tom supposed the others were probably discussing him now, how pathetic he was, to allow this to happen. Not that he could blame them.

_Even with Jeremy gone, it makes no difference. I still allowed him to hurt me, in that way._

Sharp knocking startled him and he flinched, looking up from his hands.

“Tom?” Robert’s voice.

Tom didn’t respond, hoping that he would simply leave.

“Do you mind if I… talk to you?”

With shaking legs, Tom stood up, walked over and unlocked the door, before returning to the bed and gingerly sitting down again, the sadly familiar pain again spiralling out through his body, from the contact with the mattress. Uncomfortable, he shifted, trying to find the best position, as Robert came in and closed the door behind him.

“So, that absolute _champion_ of humanity has left… hopefully for good,” Robert said.

Tom found he couldn’t look at him, instead directing his attention to his sneakers. He recalled that Robert wore lifts, clearly a little awkward about his height, compared to the others.

“What amazes me about the assholes of this world, is that they always find a way to say the most horrific…. It’s like they metaphorically have a big neon sign that reads ‘Absolute Scum Here’ with an arrow pointing towards themselves, that follows them around wherever they go. Jeremy, he could have walked away but no… no he had to just delight in being an absolute fucknuckle… No, that’s not even the right insult-“

“Robert can we not talk about this?”

“Okay, sorry, sure.”

Awkward silence then ensued. Tom was waiting for the usual witty man to say something, anything, to ease the tension. However, when Robert didn’t say a word, Tom felt impelled to speak.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry for all of this…”

“Tom, look at me.”

Tom forced himself to gaze up, into the other man’s brown irises.

“None of this is your fault.”

No, Tom didn’t want to hear that, could barely glance at Robert’s always beautiful eyes, so lovely and understanding and always showing such warmth and compassion towards him.

_No, please don’t do this to me, Robert. Not now. I can’t…_

“I guess we can…we should start organising going north. If that’s the plan…” Tom said, hoping Robert would take the hint and move the discussion off himself.

“Oh, we will it’s just… with Sebastian and Chris… well, Sebastian is having a bit of a meltdown of his own.”

“Meltdown?” Tom asked, biting his bottom lip.

“Threatening Jeremy with the gun brought back memories of killing the psychotic Terminator wannabie soldier. I let Chris deal with it. I think my specific brand of trying to help probably would have made things worse.”

Tom reminded himself that he wasn’t the only one with legitimate angst, in this new world. His left leg anxiously spasmed.

“Poor Sebastian. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through. I hope he’ll be okay. I really do.”

“He’s tough. They both are. And he has Chris. Haven’t you noticed how often he stares at Sebastian like he’s the last chocolate bar left on earth? If it wasn’t so utterly adorable, I’d find it a little creepy,” Robert grinned.

Tom gingerly shifted to the side, easing the pressure off his buttocks. He couldn’t sit in the same position very long, before the pain started to build up again, to an intolerable level.

“Well, I really don’t want to ask this but…” Robert grimaced. “How hurt are you? And don’t say you’re fine. Because you clearly aren’t.”

Toms shoulders bent  forwards, his entire body cringing with humiliation.

_Of course he knows. It’s not like it isn’t obvious._

“You’re in pain, aren’t you?” Robert asked, gently.

Tom nodded, the tears stinging his eyelids now rolling down his cheeks.

“Are you…how bad is it?”

Tom recalled the first time he tried to use the bathroom, after the first rape, the excruciation that followed, proving that Jeremy had, indeed injured him, with the forced penetration. He had not eaten anything solid since.

The bleeding had been bad that first night, particularly after the second penetration. He’d used toilet paper to try and stem the constant trickle. Combined with the utter shame was lingering fear that it wouldn’t stop. Surely, he told himself, it wasn’t possible to haemorrhage to death from being… but he wasn’t convinced.

This morning, before his jog, he’d used some toilet paper to wipe between his buttocks. Although still tender and bruised, there was at least no blood now, on the toilet paper.

“I’m no longer bleeding...” He said, mortification blushing his cheeks.

“That sick son of a god damned bitch!” Robert lifted his hands, as though to embrace him, his visage twisted with fury. Tom subconsciously flinched away from him, and then inwardly berated himself. This was Robert, who just wanted to give him affection. But, at that time, Tom didn’t want him to touch him. Didn’t want anyone to touch him.

“We’ll raid the chemist, today, okay? We could do with some painkillers and antibiotics anyway,” Robert said as he awkwardly placed his arms down onto his legs.

Antibiotics. Tom almost laughed out loud at that one. What if Jeremy did have an STD? That would be ironic, surviving the super flu, to then die from another disease.

“Tom, what Jeremy said… for one thing, it’s illogical. You can’t _want_ to be raped. The whole definition of rape it that you didn’t want it. The only thing he said that _is_ true is that you’re not weak. Yes, that’s very true.”

Sudden, incomprehensible laughter again rose in Tom’s body. He bit his inner cheeks, to keep from smiling.

_Not weak. Oh Robert, you really are hilarious._

“I stayed with him. Even after he…what does that say about me?”

“It says that he’s very good at manipulation and that he convinced you that you weren’t going to survive without him. And I’m betting that you were scared of what he’d do if you didn’t stay with him?”

“What’s worse than what he already did?” This time, he allowed the bitter laughter, that forced its way out of his larynx.

He remembered the second assault, Jeremy’s hand around his neck, just a little bit of pressure. At the time, terror had instantly frozen his entire being, pressing his body into the couch. He told himself again and again that Jeremy wouldn’t… (but then what if he would? He wanted to live. In the world of so many dead, he needed to survive).

“Tom…” Robert tentatively moved to sit beside him. “I feel useless. There’s nothing I can do or say to make you feel any better.”

_I guess not. No magic cure for me, here. We both know that life isn’t at all like the movies that we profess to love._

Tom reached over and gently grasped his shoulder, his inner abdominal viscera clenching at the haunted expression marring Robert’s handsome features. “Maybe we should find the others.”

Both silently stood and Robert unlocked the door, before they moved out the room and down the hall, to find Sebastian and Chris in embrace, in the foyer. As Tom watched, feeling a little uncomfortable at being privy to such intimacy, Chris bent down and kissed the Romanian’s forehead, before whispering into his ear, his hand sliding down to cup the small of his back. As Robert and Tom drew near, they pulled apart. Sebastian’s eyelids were redlined and Tom noted that Chris now held the gun, in his hand.  

“We should get some items from the shops,” Chris said, placing the weapon in the backpack and slinging it around his shoulder.

Tom caught eyes with Sebastian and the Romanian nodded. Tom nodded back, in solidarity of their suffering. 

*

After raiding a local pharmacy in the centre of town, they then perused a department store. Tom filled a satchel of clothes and toiletries, and then picked up the most cumbersome tent he could find from the sporting department, as well as an oil camp stove, oil to cook with, firelighters and camp chairs, throwing them all into his trolley, desperate prove to the others that he wasn’t useless, when it came to the outdoors.

_“Do you know anything, Tom?”_

_“See, Tom. This is what a liberal education gets you.”_

_“You’re just a bit too refined for this.”_

Wandering further to the back, he found the book section. On the topmost shelf was a very thick tome containing the works of Shakespeare. Peeking around, he noticed the closest person, Sebastian, hauling large bottles of water into his trolley, a good ten metres down. Tom hastily shoved the book into his satchel.

*

The van crossed the border at dusk and continued into Canada. Deciding not to put their tents up in the dark, they continued inland, through a rather dense wooded area, before coming to a clearing and venturing out, and looking around. About twenty metres in from the main road, a roughly circular glade surrounded by the shadowy red oaks, spruces and betulas, looked to be big enough to put up their three tents in. Around thirty metres beyond, the gurgling of the stream they had passed over, on a rather rickety wooden bridge, could be heard.

“Still don’t want to sleep in the van?” Chris asked, to Robert standing by the back door beside him.

Robert grinned and pulled open the door, dragging his tent out. The other three glanced at each other, shrugged, and then followed suite.

As Tom has picked the most complicated tent, he was still working on putting his up, when Robert, who was already set up, came over and offered to help.

“I don’t need help!” Tom snapped.

“Okay, not a slight on your intense manliness,” Robert joked, placing his hands up in surrender. “I just thought you wanted help placing those pegs in.”

“Sure, I’m sorry,” Tom said, inwardly cursing himself for snapping at a man just wanting to be of assistance. It simply wasn’t like him to be so grumpy, particularly as an oxycodone tablet was now keeping the pain at bay and making him slightly buzzy. He forced himself to grin and threw the pegs over.

“I used to own a similar one,” Robert said, hammering a peg into the ground with a rock. “For years, I would go camping and put the inner tent up, then the cover. Anyway, so the first time I went camping with Susan, she told me I’d been putting the cover up the wrong way, the entire time.” The mourning in his eyes was at odds with his smile. Tom smiled back and ran a gentle hand down his arm, hoping to provide some comfort.

“Anyway, we’re almost done. I don’t know why you had to pick the most complex tent in the store. You’re smart, Tom, but you need a damned engineering degree to figure this one out.”

Tom flinched, as Jeremy’s words came back to him.

_“Damn it, Tom! I know you’re smart but sometimes, the way you talk…”_

_“I like hearing you talk. So smart, Tom.”_

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I picked the worst one to put up.”

“Stop apologising, jesus! Sorry, Tom. It’s just, you’ve been doing it a lot in the past few days … it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

Tom opened his mouth to apologise again but the obvious frustration radiating from Robert clamped it shut.

After a bit of confusion, where neither Chris nor Sebastian were much help, in sorting out how the cover was meant to tie into the main tent, between Robert and Tom, they managed to work it out.

 “Alright! Bedding,” Robert walked with Tom back to the van.

“Oh no, you don’t need to, it’s fine,” Tom said, grabbing his sleeping bag, pillow and blanket from the back seat and shoving them into his hands.

He stopped walking, to focus on Sebastian and Chris, who were laughing, and jostling each other, as they built the fire together. A warmth filled Tom’s stomach and his lips quirked.

“Tom, why is this so heavy? What do you have in here? A black hole? Arnold Schwarzeneggar after eating twenty cheeseburgers?”

Tom spun around, to see that Robert had picked up his satchel, from inside the van and was holding it up.

“Please tell me it’s something awesome like-“ Robert began.

“Oh no, don’t-“ Tom said.

Too late, Robert was rudely looking inside.

“It _is_ something awesome.”

The flesh on Tom’s face start to heat up, as Robert pulled out the Shakespeare book.

“Oh Tom,” Robert laughed. “Typical.”

Tom’s heart slammed too hard against his ribcage, the blood now pooling to the surface of his face causing it to now feel scorching.

 “Tom?” Robert asked.

Ignoring him, Tom rushed to the tent and simply piled the bedding inside, not bothering to set up the bed.

_“Tom, so elegant, so austere, so English. A bit self-centred, sure, but in such a sweet way.”_

“What is it?” He heard Chris say. “Oh…”

“Let’s see?” Sebastian asked.

Tom told himself to stop being a coward and face them. Steeling himself, he stepped back outside, zipped up the tent and walked over to the three other men, now crowded around the book, by the campfire.

“I’m sorry. It’s silly. It’s not even worth anything, not in this world, anyway,” Tom said, inexplicable tears pooling at the corners of his eyelids.

_No, not again. What’s wrong with you? Your emotions are just all over the place, of late._

The others didn’t say anything, simply stared at him, so Tom continued.

“I know I should have focused on more practical items. I tried, I really did. That’s why I grabbed the firelighters and the cooking stove. I’m sorry I keep latching onto my old life, like a parasite. It’s gone forever. I need to accept that.”

All three now glanced at each other. When they looked back, he could see something akin to pity, on their always expressive faces.

“Well, to me, Shakespeare is even _more_ important, now. We need to preserve these kinds of works. Actually, there’s an idea,” Robert said. “Go into art galleries and museums and start ransacking… hold on would that be preserving, or being assholes?”

“It’s a disturbing thought. All of human history, it’s all down to us now,” Sebastian said. “Tom, thank for taking this book. We need this. We need to remind ourselves of who we are. Because isn’t that what art is? That’s what I think.” He tapped the cover of the book in Robert’s hand, with his fingers. “ _This_ is worth saving more than a few firelighters.”

“I agree. This is worth _everything_ , in this new world,” Chris said.

“This is fantastic, Tom,” Robert said, flicking through the book. “I just thought it was cute because it was so _you_. Why hide this away from us?”

“I thought you wouldn’t like it,” Tom said, now feeling rather silly. It seemed he just couldn’t get anything right. Hiding the book, saying that Jeremy should stay with them.

Not being able to ride a motorcycle. Not being able to cook a decent meal. Jogging in dangerous areas.

Staying with his own rapist.

Sebastian was now staring at him as though he’d grown three heads. Chris had resumed his pitying expression. Robert however, just shook his head.

“Yes, because three _actors_ , would _hate_ a book on Shakespeare’s works. Hey, do you know what we should do?” Robert’s brown eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. “We should re-enact one. Pick a play, and we’ll pick characters each and read it to each other.”

“Oh no, I don’t-“ Tom began.

The other three, however, started to excitedly chatter amongst themselves, laughing and agreeing.

*

In the end, they decided on ‘MacBeth’. It took a while to work out who was going to play who. The contention wasn’t, oddly enough, Macbeth himself, but Lady Macbeth, with both Robert and Chris fighting for the chance to read her. In the end, a game of thumb wars declared Robert the winner. Robert then insisted that Tom play Macbeth, with Sebastian taking the role of McDuff and Chris grabbing Ross and Duncan. The other characters they decided to just divvy amongst themselves, as they went.

Switching the book from person to person wasn’t even necessary, at times, as Tom, in particular, was quite well versed in the play. Reading Macbeth’s famous Act 5 Scene 6 “Life is but a walking shadow” monologue, Tom experienced an emotion that he couldn’t put words to.

“…tis a tale told by an idiot!” He declared, walking across an imaginary stage. “Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing!”

Breaking character, he couldn’t help but respond to the feeling bubbling away inside of him, with a smile. Sitting down by the fire opposite, Robert spoke.

“Damn it! See there, there! I give up. I’m glad Lady Crazy Blood Spots is now officially dead. I couldn’t possibly be as brilliant as that.”

The intense emotion instantly deflated within him and Tom peered down at Robert, trying to work out whether he was being sarcastic. Only, there appeared no malice in his being. Sitting beside Robert, Chris patted him on the knee.

“Robert…” He then whispered something into his ear. Robert laughed.

“I’m not saying Tom isn’t great. We know he is,” Chris said. On the other side of him, Sebastian nodded.

“What is it?” Tom asked. Surely they wouldn’t be so cruel as to gossip about him directly in front of him?

“Yes, what you’re saying is true. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that Tom is a fantastic Shakespearean actor,” Robert said.

“I didn’t say it didn’t. I just said you were being damned obvious,” Chris said.

“Damn right. But do you blame me? Look at him!”

Sebastian stood up and gently took the book off him.

“Chris was just saying that it’s pretty obvious how much Robert likes you, that’s all,” he whispered into Tom’s ear.

Later, when he was pretending to swordfight Sebastian, both laughing and running around the fire, again the positive emotion engulfed his body. It suddenly came to him what it was.

He couldn’t recall the last time that he had felt such pure joy.

Finally, at the end of the play, Chris broke character as Malcolm, after his final speech and spoke directly, to Sebastian.

“And McDuff, I expect you in my chambers post haste!”

All four men broke up in laughter.

Tom, lying on the ground, post Macbeth death, jumped up, to grins all-round, from the men coming in, to surround him.

 “Of course, that was great fun! Man I needed that,” Chris said.

“Thank you, Tom,” Robert said.

“Yes, thank you!” Sebastian grinned.

Tom beamed back at him and Chris.

“Alright, bed?” Chris asked Sebastian.

“Bed. Goodnight, guys.”

Watching them disappear into their tent, a little-ways away, nestled between two red oaks, Robert remarked. “They’re both pretty worked up. I think it’s pretty obvious what they’re about to do. Kept me up a few nights back. I swear, they’re damned rampant.”

“Good for them,” Tom said.

Feeling eyes on him, he turned his head, to Robert smiling at him. His mind flashed to Jeremy, staring at him with a similar expression. But no, he told himself. Robert was different. Robert wouldn’t hurt him.

“I have an idea,” Robert said. “Let’s take out our bedding and sleep by the fire.”

“Do you think that’s safe?”

“Well, I did grab a shotgun, just in case we happen to run into any unfriendly beasties… including other humans.”

Tom shrugged and went to his tent, bringing out his sleeping bag and pillow and then dumping them by the fire, where Robert was setting up his own bedding, the shot gun by his side. Both then lay on their backs, staring up at the now dark sky, glittering with multitudes of stars.

“Beautiful…” Tom said. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d been out, camping in the wilderness, like this. Years, certainly.

“Kind of makes you feel so insignificant,” Robert said. “This tiny little blue planet, compared to the vastness of space. I don’t know, with the way us humans treated earth, maybe we deserved what happened to us. We weren’t exactly benevolent.”

“No,” Tom said. “We had our faults. But we were good. The majority of humans were good. I need to believe that. The problem was the power that rested in the hands of a few. And now _we_ have that power. By the sheer massacre of the majority of the population. Nature is cruel. But then, maybe it was just trying to save itself. With most of the population gone, just imagine what this place will be like in twenty years’ time. Imagine New York in a hundred. Overgrown with lush and verdant flora.”

Tom turned over onto his side, to look at Robert, who rolled towards him, his irises very dark, in the glow of the campfire.

“Of all the people to survive… I just keep thinking why me? I tried, in my own pitiable way, to make some difference, no matter how small… But I wasn’t some great brain surgeon or Stephen Hawking… all of my desires now seem so foolish… winning an Oscar, one day. How utterly selfish of me,” Tom said.

“We’re all guilty of that, to some degree. I would have given my life a hundred times over, to save just one of my family. Someone as selfish as me surviving… no, there’s no justice with what happened here. But wanting an Oscar… Tom, that wasn’t more or less selfish than thousands, maybe millions of people the world over. Sure, you were a product of our pretty messed up society. But you were one of the more selfless ones. You genuinely cared about others.”

“I could have done more.”

“We _all_ could have. Look, there’s no point in feeling bad now. It’s in the past. The old society. I guess we have to see what we can do now, in this pretty crazy new one.”

“You’re right. I should stop acting so despondent.”

‘Hey…” For the first time, when Robert gently grasped his arm, he didn’t flinch.

Earlier that night, during the play reading, he occasionally touched the other three, on the shoulder or arm, Robert in particular ( _He was playing your wife. That’s why you touched him more than the others. That’s the only reason why.)._ The instant that Chris touched him on the back, however, he jumped. There was a brief pause, before Sebastian read his line out and then the play reading continued.

“No more feeling sorry for yourself, okay?” Robert gently rubbed his upper arm, sending little thrills up along the flesh.

Tom wondered how Robert would react, if he cupped his chin in his hands, leaning forward-

Where did that come from? No, no no. There was something wrong with him. Clearly. Merely days before, he had been violently assaulted and now, these inappropriate thoughts were coming into his mind, for a man who was bereaved from losing his entire family. This wasn’t right.

He deserved better, Tom told himself. Not that he’d want you, anyway. The kind of man who would sink to his knees before his rapist and force himself to commit the most debasing of acts, and for what? He could tell himself it was so Jeremy wouldn’t hurt him more. But the truth was, he was starting to suspect that it was because he didn’t have the courage, to be by himself.

Tom rolled over away from Robert, blinking back tears.

“Tom?”

Tom didn’t answer.

“Everything alright?”

_You deserve better than me, Robert. All three of you do._

*

The sound of sizzling, gentle footsteps around him.

“… sleep…” Chris’s voice.

“… there’s plenty here, for when he wakes up.” Sebastian.

“Hey…” Gentle hand rocking his shoulder. Robert. “Sleeping beauty…”

“Robert, I wouldn’t,” Chris again.

“…I’m okay…” Tom mumbled, blinking, and opening his eyes to large brown eyes staring back at him, Robert’s always charming smile. Any fears that Robert would act awkward from the night before instantly vanished.

“Good morning, gorgeous one,” Robert said, as Tom rose and stretched. “You know, the majority of humans when they sleep snore and dribble and fart and talk. But you, even in the deepest sleep, just managed to look insanely angelic.”

“Well, Seb doesn’t do any of those things while sleeping,” Chris said, his arm comfortably around the waist of Sebastian, who was frying sausages on the coals, from the night before. “Just thought I’d point that out.”

“Chris… well, admittedly you do snore a bit,” Sebastian planted a quick kiss on his neck, before returning to the cooking.

“Yes, so I’ve heard.”

 “How you feeling?” Sebastian asked Tom, his voice gentle with concern.

Tom shrugged. The pain was even more lessened that day, so that was a plus, he supposed.

*

After a rather hearty breakfast, Sebastian and Chris decided to explore the area, asking if Tom and Robert wanted to join them. Both declined. Tom’s enthusiasm for being away from Robert in particular had waned since he had decided to take a jog the morning before and been intercepted by Jeremy. His assumed safety in the college turned out to be for naught. As ridiculous as it was- Robert was actually not, after all, Iron Man- he still felt safe around the man, even more than the other two (who, ironically, would probably fair better, should they get into trouble).

Robert’s plan was to wander down to the stream that cut through the forest to the south, to try some fishing. After a few minutes of attempting to fruitlessly meditate by the now smouldering fire, with his mind too busy jumping from thought to thought, with no attempt at rest, Tom gave up and walked down to join him, easing himself onto the rocky outridge beside him, mindful of the fact that he hadn’t taken any pain medication that morning and was still more than a little tender. They had truly picked a rather lovely spot, to camp for the next few days. The stream gurgled pleasantly along multicoloured rocks and was shaded by tall elms sprouting bright red flowers. As he watched, Robert attached the bait and flung his line into the water.

“I haven’t fished in years,” Robert admitted. “Used to go out with dad…”

Tom thought of his own parents. What became of them, in the end? His sisters? Were they together? Without their son, who placed his career above being with them, in their most destitute of times. No matter what he did, how he had abandoned them, they had always supported him, championed him on.

_I was too late. I left it far too late. I should have gone back sooner. Been with them._

Movement flicked his head up and he looked into the flowing creek in time to see a salmon jump out of the water and land, creating a splash.

“Did you just see-?”  Tom asked, clasping Robert hard on the shoulder.

“I did!” Robert laughed. “Well, at least we know there is fish in the water. If only it would jump over here.”

Tom gasped, as another salmon flung itself above the surface of the water. He suddenly realised that he still held onto Robert’s shoulder. Only the other man didn’t seem to care. His mind went back to the night before, to the Shakespeare recital. At one point, he was standing behind Robert and kneading his shoulders. Of course, it was all a part of the scene. They were, after all, meant to be husband and wife (… _you barely touched the other two…)._ Tom released Robert’s shoulder, pulling away from the other man.

_Admit it, you like touching Robert._

“Tom…Tom I want you to know that you can tell me anything, alright? No matter what. I won’t judge you. I just wanted to put that out there.”

Tom eyed him suspiciously. Was Robert implying that he’d done something wrong? Certainly, he’d committed a multitude of sins, not the least of which involved allowing a man he once considered a friend to brutally abuse him.

“I don’t think that quite came out right,” Robert said, frowning. “What I mean is… look, I’ve done things in my life that I thought people would judge me over. Whether they did or didn’t doesn’t matter. The truth was that I was convinced they’d think less of me because of it. I’m not at all saying that you…” Tom could see that he was becoming rather flustered. “I get the impression… and I may be wrong here… that you somehow think that we’re all judging you because of what happened to you. The truth is a resounding no. We’re worried about you. Just this morning, Chris pulled me aside while you were sleeping to tell me just that.”

“It _is_ the end of the world. Everyone I loved is dead. Most of the population is dead. We’re _all_ suffering,” Tom pointed out.

“That’s true. But that doesn’t take away from what you went through.”

Robert’s expression was so open and trustworthy. Tom longed to tell him, to just blurt out all of his horror and shame, but found he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t…”

“What are you thinking right now, Tom? Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.”

“Everyone is suffering right now. You’ve lost your entire family. Sebastian killed a man in self-defence. Both him and Chris were almost murdered. This isn’t about me.”

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m just here when you want to.”

Robert turned back to his rod.

_Talk to him, Tom. He’s not going to hurt you or judge you. Go on._

“Have you ever been hit?” Tom asked.

Robert shifted his body to face him, his lips downturning.

“One time, I was more than hit. I was punched, kicked. There were two of them. I wasn’t exactly Tony Stark that day. My reaction was more to curl up into a little ball and beg them not to hurt me, more than kick their asses. Pretty damned humiliating.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Tom said, regretting asking the question, to begin with.

“Before then, I always thought that if someone ever tried to fight me, I’d suddenly become some amazing new reincarnation of Bruce Lee. The reality was slightly different… Actually, it was after that that I started to learn wing chun. Didn’t want anyone to get the jump on me again.”

“The SOS taught me some defensive techniques, when I was researching for King Kong.  Jeremy, he slapped me and I just… I froze. I’d never been hit before. Not on the face.”

Robert lifted his arm, as though wishing to touch him, but then dropped it again. As always, the expression on his face when directed at himself, was so open, so warm and non-judgmental. Tom suddenly felt not only the strength, but the urge, to keep talking.

“He tried to kiss me. I guess I should have seen it coming. We’re staying in a hotel in Detroit, where there was a woodfire stove. Jeremy insisted on making the fire. He was insistent on doing everything. I just let him. He seemed to get irritated anytime I tried anything. Anyway, so he sat down next to me and tried to kiss me and I… I tried to tell him that I didn’t see him that way. He kept trying to kiss me so I pushed him off the couch. He landed pretty heavily on the ground. I was concerned that he had hurt himself. Then he just climbed back up and…. That was when he hit me… held me down… I remember just being in such shock… that he would do this to me. I know we thought we were the last two humans alive. And he must have heard the rumours that I… but I wasn’t interested. Not in him.”

The truth was, he wasn’t ever interested in other men, with one exception, the one sitting right next to him. Certainly, he saw sexuality as being fluid and was not shocked when he started to develop feelings for another man. He recalled the jokes about the Avengers set concerning him and Robert. Everyone was aware of Robert’s bisexuality, and open relationship and Tom was particularly sensitive to the whispers concerning his positive response to Robert’s flirting. Even Chris Hemsworth had told him, at one point, that he would ‘turn’ only for Robert. Even the most heterosexual of men would ‘turn gay’ for Robert, Chris had said.

“What he did to you had nothing to do with sexuality,” Robert said. “It wasn’t because he couldn’t control himself. He did it because he wanted to have power over and humiliate and shame another person. And because he’s a shit stain on the crustiest pair of underwear worn by a man who hasn't changed them in a good fifty years,” Robert then risked gently grabbing Tom’s hand. Tom warily accepted. “Just because you thought you were the only two men left alive didn’t give him the right to touch you. Even if you were interested in him, that didn’t give him the right to touch you, unless you wanted him to. None. Of. This. Is. Your. Fault.”

Tom allowed the tears to seep down his cheeks, sobs to rip through his throat. Robert’s arms were suddenly warm around him.

_Not my fault._

“I begged him not to. But he just kept… I couldn’t move… I just froze…” Tom buried his face in Robert’s chest, as the intense, almost overwhelming shame leeched through his body.

“That’s a normal reaction to extreme stress. Your body was trying to protect itself,” Robert said, hands gentle down his back. It felt right, soothing.

“I didn’t…I just let him… More than once. I’m sorry. If you’re disappointed in me, then I don’t blame you at all. I came back to him. Even after the first time. I could have left. I didn’t. And then again, in the morning, he wanted me and I… I didn’t want to but I still just let him do what he wanted. I forwent my own dignity, my own body, just because I didn’t want to be alone,” Tom said, feeling snot and tears drench Robert’s t-shirt as he physically shook from the intensity of his sobs.

“I saw the look on your face, that first night we met. You were clearly terrified of him, Tom. Sounds to me like you made the choice to protect yourself from further harm.”

Tom’s mind went back to the hand around his throat, that added bit of pressure. He deliberately forced himself to calm down, to tamper down on the tears.

“It was like being in a nightmare. He convinced me that I was useless, couldn’t perform the most meagre of tasks.”

“Classic abuser. Convince the person they’re with that they’re nothing without them.”

“When I saw you, you wouldn’t believe how relieved I was.”

“Well, yes, I can totally believe that. It is _me_ , after all.”

Tom pulled back a little. A half-grin had uplifted Robert’s lips.

“Yes, it was _you_. Of all people. Jeremy wasn’t the one-“

What the hell was he doing? The grin on Robert’s handsome visage widened and he stared into Tom’s eyes, his own so wide and lustrous brown.

For a moment, Tom was convinced that Robert was going to kiss him. For a moment, he was going to let him. But then Robert pulled away. Without even thinking about what he was doing, or considering the consequences, Tom leant forward and kissed Robert on the cheek, before pulling away, gaging his reaction. A barrage of conflicting emotions issued through the dark brown orbs.

“Tom, I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not going to deny it, either. I am attracted to you.”

“Well, obviously mutual,” Tom smiled, butterflies careening against the walls of his stomach.

“I know this is probably wrong. It’s the apocalypse. We’ve both lost people we’ve loved. I’m grieving the loss of the love of my life. You’ve been raped by a sociopath we both considered sort of a friend. But… damn, can I kiss you, Tom?”

Feeling his heartrate pick up, Tom nodded.

Robert leant forward, gently grasping his jaw in his hands, before leaning forward. This time, Tom allowed the kiss, moaning, as their tongues tenderly lapped, before both naturally pulled away.

“You decide what you want here, okay? I’m not even… I’m not even going to touch you unless you say it’s alright. I know this situation is incredibly messed up. But I don’t want to make things worse…”

“I don’t either…” Tom admitted. “I’m also attracted to you. But I can’t… The idea of entering into a sexual relationship right now…I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have…”

“I’m not expecting you to want to jump into bed with me, as entertaining as that sounds. How about we just take this as this comes, alright?”

Tom nodded and tenderly grabbed his hand, holding it in his own.

“Thank you, Tom. I know it must have taken a lot of courage, to open up to me the way you just did.”

“I guess it was going to happen at some point. We’ve been flirting for years.”

“I meant talking about what Jeremy did to you. The blame is on him, Tom. Not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.”

“I stayed with him, even after he… hurt me, the first time. I let him do it to me again. And then again.”

“You didn’t _let_ him do anything,” he could now hear the frustration, in Robert’s voice. “He manipulated you and then threatened you, beat you and then raped you. I don’t know how many times I have to say it, until you believe it.” He lifted Tom’s hand and kissed it. “This is all on him being a sick rapist asshole. Not you, okay?”

Tom nodded, if only to shut Robert up.

_I wish I could believe that, Robert. I really do._

Tbc…


	5. Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long hiatus (to be honest, I had a bit of writer's block with this one) have decided to continue with this fic. Inspired by a new film coming out in a few weeks...  
> This chapter is dark and twisted, with rape and character death. I'm not going to deny I'm not a little messed up...

After running Jeremy off, Robert returned to the hall entrance, to a disturbing sight; Sebastian was bent over, grasping at his throat and gasping. He stilled, unsure as to what was happening and, furthermore, what to do.

“I can’t… I can’t…” Sebastian said.

“Seb, what’s wrong? Seb!” Chris stroked his partner’s back, in a feeble attempt to soothe him.

“I shouldn’t have… take it! Take it!” He waved the gun towards Chris, to grabbed it off him. “I shouldn’t even touch this thing!”

“I don’t understand…” Chris floundered.

“You successfully departed that scum,” Robert said, moving closer towards the distraught man.

Sebastian’s blue eyes looked up, his face twisted with tortured angst. “What if I had shot him, like I did the soldier?”

“The soldier was going to _kill_ you! He would have killed Chris!” Robert pointed out.

_What the hell is wrong with him? What is this?_

Sebastian responded by digging his fingers into the muscled flesh of his abdomen, as he continued to bend over, grimacing.

“Oh god, what if Jeremy didn’t leave? I shouldn’t have pointed the gun at him. That was wrong, so wrong!”

“Robert, please… go see Tom,” Chris said.

Robert was so focused on Sebastian, he hadn’t noticed Tom had also gone missing.  Chris continued to stroke Sebastian’s hair, looking up at Robert with a pointed look.

“Alright, alright…”

Shaking his head, Robert passed through the sitting room and traversed the long corridor beyond, hoping Tom was in the room he’d slept in the night before, or he’d have no idea as to where else to search. Thankfully, the Brit was predictable.

Seeing Tom seated on the carefully made up bed, Robert’s shoulders sagged. Despite his tall, lanky frame, Tom appeared smaller, more vulnerable. With all that Robert had seen, in this cruel new world (the young college kids who had died, naked, in each other’s arms, in the bedroom occupied by Jeremy, ranked close to the top) this fresh new horror; the mental and spiritual decimation of one of the kindest men Robert had ever met, served to further blacken his already cynical view of life.

Talking to Tom, trying to convince him of the truth- that he was not at all to blame for the abuse Jeremy had forced on him- was a thankless task. The stubborn side of Tom was determined to not listen, to convince himself he was culpable for Jeremy’s ill-intentions towards him. Robert tightened his arm and leg muscles, swallowing back a scream of frustration.

_Ok…. Just don’t get heated up and then get him all heated up._

Tom shifted position, a flicker of pain twisting his delicate features. Robert didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to verify the result of Jeremy’s actions on him, proof of the violation. However, for Tom’s well-being he had to.

It was worse than Robert had presumed. Tom was hurt. Hearing Tom again blame himself, for staying with that absolute King of Human Interaction, made Robert’s stomach twist with nausea.

Tom had bleed.

He was no virgin, himself, when it came to penetration. When it came to his burgeoning sexuality as a teenager, he had indulged in interesting experimentation. In retrospect, he was surprised he never became one of those unlucky souls to go to the emergency room on their stomachs, with items stuck in a particular intimate area of their body.

Because his partner was gentle and took time in preparing him, his first time with another man was uncomfortable but wasn’t the all-out pain fest he had been convinced it would be. In any other time since, when it came to intimacy with the XY gender, he always made sure to  prepare with plenty of lube, whether he was the one giving or receiving.

He couldn’t conceive of the agony of another man simply forcing himself inside with no preparation.

_Poor Tom. Poor poor Tom._

Certainly, Tom deserved better than his pity, in that time, but he had no idea how to even begin to help him.

*

“Oh no, if we’re going to talk about Thor’s hero arc, in terms of Joseph Conrad’s mythology…” Tom trailed off, as he continued looking along the shelves filled with various camping equipment. “I’m sorry. This isn’t… this isn’t important. Not in this new world.”

_And there it is. Another damned apology._

Robert dropped his neck, rubbing his eyes.

After picking up supplies from the in-department pharmacy (both studiously ignoring the withered corpse of the still seated pharmacist- Robert had to admire her dedication to the job), Robert had deliberately skewed the conversation away from the medication they were stealing (in particular the heavy painkillers and antibiotics for Tom) and towards less potentially problematic areas.

Only, every conversation at the moment was a problematic area for Tom.

“It’s not as though there are going to be any movies anymore,” Tom said.

“Storytelling, narrative go back to the beginning of humankind, even _I_ know that,” Robert gently teased. “We’ll find new ways to reinvent Iron Man, believe me on that one.”

Tom stopped at the most expensive tent in the department, which, judging by the pictures on front, would take an advanced physics degree to work out how to construct.

“Yes, that is true. The hero arc mythology is representative of the _male_ journey. If we’re going to talk about the female journey, a new set of parameters are given. Of course, the female journey can be the same as the male. Unfortunately, society…I’m going to take this one,” Tom took the box of the complicated tent off the shelf and placed it in his trolley. “With society now gone, I hope we can do away with the previous patriarchy. Of course, with our built-in gender roles, instilled since birth, that may be difficult…”

Robert never saw himself as a feminist, despite his strong and powerful wife. However, he enjoyed Tom espousing his belief system. This was very in keeping with the Tom he had the pleasure of knowing.

“I’m waffling on…” Tom trailed off.

“I enjoy listening to you waffle on… That came out wrong,” Tom didn’t return his smile.

“You don’t have to stay with me. I’m fine,” Tom said.

“Strange, isn’t it? The concept that we tend to stay with people we’re fond of.”

Robert's flattery caused a brief uprise of lips.

“Honestly, Robert. I don’t need to be chaperoned. I’m fine.”

“Alright, I guess I can find Chris and tear him away from Sebastian for a few minutes, so we can leave before the sun explodes.”

The smile that spread across Tom’s face was now genuine. “They’re adorable, aren’t they?”

“Not so adorable when it’s three o’clock in the morning and I’m kept up by their loud sex.”

Breaking away from Tom, who tittered laughter, Robert found Chris standing in the men’s clothes section, piling white t-shirts into his bag. Sebastian stood two aisles over, grabbing underwear.

“We need to talk.” Robert said, lowering his voice.

Chris faced him, to show he had his full attention.

“I’m worried about Tom. He says he’s…” He frowned. “He says he’s been bleeding.”

Chris’s handsome features crinkled in in clear disgust.

“That’s why we went to the pharmacy. He says it’s stopped. But he hasn’t been eating.”

“Do you think he needs medical attention?” Chris asked.

“I don’t know. It’s not as though it matters, anyway. None of us are doctors or in any way are medically trained. Hell, I don’t even know how to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre!”

“Has he spoken to you about what happened?” A slight flush on his cheeks was the only sign of Chris’ disgust at the topic of conversation. Robert was impressed he was able to keep himself so calm, when discussing the violent assault of their friend.

“A little. But not really.”

“Well, he trusts you. You keep trying to get him to open up. But all three of us will keep a close eye on him.”

Robert’s heart clenched, as he glanced in the direction of the Brit, who had disappeared behind the shelves of camping equipment.

“He’s not himself. Not that I blame him, considering. He rarely smiles anymore, he flinches any time anyone comes close. He barely even talks,” Robert said.

“He’s gone through a lot.”

“I know. It’s just… I’m aware of how selfish I’m sounding. I miss the old Tom.”

Chris’ eyes sparkled with affection, and he gently clasped Robert’s shoulder, in a show of solidarity.

*

Robert stood in the centre of the children’s toys, staring at a barbie doll he’d taken off the shelf, feeling the avalanche of tears come. He allowed the deluge, sobbing helplessly into his hands. What was he doing? Why were they even bothering to move anywhere? Where was there to escape to, in a world of such suffering?

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, not sure as to who he was apologising to. His family? His parents? The entire deceased world?

“Robert?” Chris came towards him, hands open in supplication. “I’m sorry, I’m so…I’m so sorry.”

Chris reached out and embraced him and Robert allowed it, sobbing into his t-shirt, as his friend’s strong arms went around him, holding him close.

*

Of course, trust Tom to grab a book of Shakespeare’s works, to take with him on their journey. Seeing the heavy tome, Robert couldn’t contain his laughter. Yes, yes, this was the Tom he knew. Educated, smart, sexy little bookworm.

Only Tom looked back at him with fear in his startling blue irises. Robert was at an loss as to why. Did he think they would judge him, for this incredible action? ( _Damn it, Tom. Jeremy really did get to you…)_ Tom started on his self-pitying apologizing, that had been building the irritation in his stomach, over the past day, and it took all of Robert’s control not to verbally lash out at him.

_No, no, no. He isn’t himself. Try not to blame him._

Robert came up with the spontaneous idea to read the play Macbeth aloud, as a simple ploy to attempt to give transcendence to their now dire lives. He wasn’t sure if it worked, in that sense. But he did have a hell of a lot of fun. Robert whooped, hollered, shouted and ran around, adding his own interpretations of the dialogue, for the hell of it. There was a plethora of laughter, all around, including from Tom. Seeing the Brit’s face light up in obvious humour, propelled Robert to horse around even more, deliberately bringing the height of his charisma out, to charm the others.

However, even then, Tom managed to go one above him, displaying his pure magnetism and grasp of the material, in a way that not even Robert had a handle on. Watching Tom strut about, monologuing, Robert was aware he was sporting the biggest, goofiest grin, but didn’t much care.

“Robert…” Chris, seated beside him, leant over and whispered in his ear. “Your crush on Tom is so obviously showing right now. I’m not saying Tom isn’t great. We know he is.”

“What is it?” Tom asked, still panting from the force of his musings. In another time and place, Robert would have charged him and planted his lips on that sweet mouth that spoke the language with such articulation, but refrained.  It occurred to Robert that Chris was right. Of course, he had a ‘crush’ on Tom. If circumstances were different, he’d be luring him away to his own tent. However, given what had happened, perhaps it was best for him to not try and seduce a rape victim.

Still, he was not going to allow it to stop him from openly acknowledging Tom’s talent, smarts and beauty.

*

Robert was concerned as to why his bed was so hard underneath him, and why the room was so frigid. It wasn’t like Susan to have the air conditioner on such a high level. Damn thing must need replacing again. It had only been six months! What was-?

Awareness crept into his muddled mind. He was on the ground because he had taken the sleeping bag out there the night before, to keep Tom company. They were in a forest because they had camped there, for the night. There was no air conditioner. And Susan was-

A fresh onslaught of tears flooded his cheeks and he moaned, clutching at his chest, the pain sharp, physical. No no he couldn’t bear this. Surely, no one could experience such a torrent of anguish and survive.

He opened his eyelids, to Tom’s curly hair poking out from his sleeping bag. Tom was dead, Robert was sure of it, had expired during the night. He would unzip the tent beyond, to find Chris and Sebastian also perished. Robert would have to continue his life, in a world of corpses.

“No…” A chill permeated his system and he unzipped the sleeping bag, stumbling away from Tom’s still form. “Please no…”

Still clutching at his chest, he ambled over to the thicket of trees to the back of the tents, placing his hand on the thick bark of a particularly gnarled one, for support.

_Just you and me, buddy. Just you and me till the end of eternity._

The thought occurred that perhaps he had finally yielded to what everyone had always told him he would succumb to; utter madness. A brief giggle escaped his larynx. Well, why not, indeed? It would be a welcome respite to his current pain.

Rustling turned his head, to Chris walking out of the trees towards him. Robert pushed down his anguish as far as he could allow it to go, hoping if he ignored it, it would leave him and never return. Of course, these actions only ever made things worse for him. Then again, he was never an expert on doing what was best for himself.

“How are you feeling today?” Chris asked, upon reaching speaking distance.

“Still the end of the world so…”

“Yeah, still kind of sux,” Chris’ grin was grim.

“How is your sexy Romanian?” Robert gestured towards the tent.

“Decided to leave him sleeping. How’s Tom?”

“We decided to sleep under the stars. You may have noticed. After everything that asshole put him through he’s still more or less Tom. Jeremy shook him up. But, there are moments when he’s the same old optimist.”

Chris bit his upper lip. “I’m still worried about him. Last night, you saw how he flinched whenever any of us touched him?”

Robert had noticed. But Chris was only partially right. Tom had flinched any time him or Sebastian touched him, but not Robert, himself. In the play, Tom was, of course, playing his husband, which lead to natural physical contact between them. Even so, he did note that Tom did not shy away from initiating touching him; furthermore, didn’t flinch or stiffen whenever Robert returned the contact.

“Maybe we let Jeremy go too soon…” Chris trailed off. “Seb knew. He said he knew something was off about Jeremy…”

“So did Susan…” The gaping wound in his heart deepened, at the mention of her name. “We shouldn’t blame ourselves. He fooled a lot of people.”

Chris’ left shoulder shrugged and his mouth twitched upwards. “At least we’re all together. That’s something.”

“You have that gorgeous Sebastian… that’s more than something.”

“I could tell you were after him the moment he arrived on set on Civil War… not that I blame you,” Chris grinned.

“Nothing ever came of it. He had only eyes for you…”

“Only had to wait until the end of the world…”

Robert laughed, as Chris rolled his eyes.

*

Observing Chris and Sebastian together, bumping shoulders and giggling, as Sebastian fried sausages, a subtle glee filled Robert’s body. He was glad that, in this world of suffering, two incredible people had found love with each other.

“Almost ready,” Sebastian said.

“What about Tom?” Chris asked. “He’s still asleep.”

As Sebastian answered, Robert knelt down and peered into Tom’s sleeping frame, inwardly sighing at his angelic countenance. Why Jeremy was determined to harm him felt even more bizarre, in that moment. Tom murmured and Robert risked reaching out and shaking him.

“Hey… sleeping beauty…”

“Robert, I wouldn’t…” Chris said, behind him.

“I’m alright…” Tom’s eyes were always such an illustrious blue.

As he rose and stretched, Robert allowed a compliment to escape his lips. He wasn’t even sure why he was continuing to flirt with Tom. It was possibly going to further deteriorate his mental health, but Robert couldn’t resist.

Chris and Sebastian continued to demonstrate their extreme cute relationship as they flirted, culminating in Sebastian pecking Chris on the lips.

“Tom, how are you feeling?” Sebastian asked.

The shrug of Tom’s shoulders told them all he wasn’t in the mood for discussing his problems, and Robert couldn’t blame him.

*

Casting his line into the water, Robert’s thoughts went to Chris and Sebastian, who had gone off to explore the area. They had, of course, asked Robert and Tom to join them, but Robert suspected this was more a gesture, than invite. Before they left, Chris’ blue eyes had caught his, before flicking to Tom. Robert read what he wanted to say and nodded in the affirmative. Of course, he would try to retrieve more out of Tom. Robert had experience in dealing with a traumatised human being from his own life. He had never experienced the same trauma as Tom, but he was aware that the best tactic was to allow Tom the time to come to him. Hence, he had given him space, telling him to join him, if he wanted.

Footsteps sounded behind him and Tom came through the forest, to sit beside him on the creek bank.

“I haven’t fished in years…” Robert said. “Used to go out with dad…”

So, it turned out talking about his father also twisted the knife in his heart once more. He shut his mouth. They sat in not awkward silence for a while, before a salmon jumped out of the water before them.

“Did you see-?” Tom’s excited voice rang out, as he clasped hard onto Robert’s shoulder.

Robert couldn’t help but be bemused by Tom’s pleasure at viewing a tiny hint of the beauty of nature. This was in keeping with the man he was so fond of. Tom was a rarity amongst humans; one without a hint of irony. He genuinely loved life and all aspects involved. Even negative aspects, he worked hard to turn around. When he was with Tom, the cynical side of Robert’s nature began to fall in line with his way of thinking, to see the world as a place of wonder and intrigue.

Robert didn’t want him to lose that, particularly to a man who wasn’t worth his attentions.

However, in attempting to reassure Tom, his usual way with words failed. Perhaps he was too close to the situation. From Tom’s guarded expression, as Robert tried to again tell him he wasn’t to blame for what Jeremy did to him, he wasn’t getting the right words across. He gave up, returning to his rod. No fish were biting, despite the salmon jumping minutes before.

“Have you ever been hit?” Tom asked.

Sure, Robert had been hit. He’d been punched, kicked, stomped, had been certain they would keep going until he was unconscious, or brain dead. At the time, the loss of control over himself was terrifying. He brain had been fuzzy, the neurotransmitters sending information in such a haphazard fashion his entire body was about to combust. His attackers had laughed at him, had cussed at him, making clear their utter domination. If they wanted to, they could have easily… with what happened with Tom…Perhaps they would have… but help arrived and his attackers fled.

“… Jeremy, he slapped me and I just…I froze. I’d never been hit before. Not in the face.”

With a halting voice, Tom spoke of Jeremy's travesties against him. It was worse than Robert had imagined. The asshole had torn away at Tom’s confidence, little by little, berating and harassing him. When it came to the first assault, Tom had attempted to talk him out of it, had pushed him away, and had struggled, before giving in.

Robert tried his best to reassure him. This wasn’t his fault. None of it was his fault. He was certain he wasn’t getting through. Not at that point. But… maybe if he kept hammering the point in…

Tom revealed the worst of Jeremy’s crimes. He had gone back to him and Jeremy had then assaulted him twice more. Again, as Tom blamed himself for going back to him, sobbing against Robert’s t-shirt, it took all of his strength not to vehemently discuss the area of the rapist’s body he was going to chop off, if he ever saw Jeremy again. But this would not help Tom. Fantasies of vengeance were not going to help him heal, at this point.

“When I saw you, you wouldn’t believe how relieved I was…” Tom said, pulling back.

“Well, yes, I can totally believe that. It is me, after all.” _Ok, Robert why did you say that? He’s just told you about being sexually assaulted! Stop this!_

“Yes, it was you. Of all people. Jeremy wasn’t the one-“

Oh.

Well, he couldn’t say this was a surprise.

_No, don’t, Robert. This isn’t-_

Soft kiss on his cheek.

_Well, hell…_

“Tom, I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not going to deny it either. I’m attracted to you.”

“Well, obviously mutual,” Tom said.

Obviously.

Robert’s heart galloped. They shouldn’t. This was wrong. This was so wrong. It was the apocalypse, of all times. Tom had just told him about his recent sexual assault. Robert was still mourning the loss of his family. Hell, both were mourning the loss of the world-

Tom’s lips were as soft as he had imagined, his tongue more electrifying in his mouth, his facial hair rough under Robert’s hands. It had been so long since he’d kissed another man. He had forgotten how different than a woman, how animalistic, primal. They pulled away. A light sheen now stood out on Tom’s forehead, his eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed.

Robert laid out the ground rules. He wouldn’t touch Tom unless he wanted him to. He was in control. Tom, in return, laid out his own. He wasn’t up for a sexual relationship. This was expected. Tom reinforced this, when he again brought up the Asshole. In Robert’s mind, he was no longer Jeremy, he was the Asshole.

“…this is on him being a sick rapist asshole, alright?”

Tom nodded, the disbelief obvious in his downturned lips.

Relinquishing the need to convince him, for now, Robert returned to his fishing pole.

“I’ve never…I was always open to the idea of falling for another man. But you were the first I’ve ever…”

“It is _me_ , so of course,” Robert jested.

“Chris Hemsworth told me even the most heterosexual of men would fall for you.”

Robert laughed. “I always thought you had a thing for Hemsworth.”

“Chris?” Tom’s eyebrow raised. “He’s a dear friend. That’s all.”

“Maybe I _hoped_ you had a thing for him because you two would make a hot couple.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle with your flirting,” Tom smiled. “On set, that was…”

“Nor were you,” Robert pointed out, taking his hand again and kissing it.

“This is…I know we shouldn’t but I…I want to…Everything is so complicated right now. I wish I could talk to my family, or Chris, or Benedict…I’m sure he made it. He wasn’t sick, as far as I’m aware. But he was in England. How will I ever see him again? Or Chris in Australia?”

“We’ll have to go the old-fashioned way. By boat. Will take a long time. So… most important of all, we’ll have to come up with awesome pirate names,” Robert said.

Tom smiled, shaking his head, before his expression changed, to one of intrigue, as he turned around.

“Chris and Sebastian must be back,” Tom peered through the bushes behind them.

“Already? They’ve only been gone-“

Tom gasped, the blood draining from his face, as he stood.

“What-?” Robert said.

“What are you doing-?” Panic sounded in Tom’s tone.

Robert spun around, to Jeremy standing before him, an odd device in his hand. He had no time to comprehend why he was there, how he had even begun to follow them, when two wires shot out from the device and attached to his chest. Tom screamed again, and a volt of electricity hit Robert, fire jolting over his body, as he fell to the ground, convulsing.

“Don’t move, Tom, or I will kill him. Don’t push me on this,” Jeremy said. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“Jeremy, please don’t hurt us any more.”

“Then do as I say!”

The electricity stopped surging through him but Robert continued to convulse, nerves aflame, mouth open in a silent scream, heart pounding too fast in his chest. It would continue to pound so fast it would wear out and cease to function, he was certain.

Stumbling footsteps departed the area.

“Please Jeremy…” Tom’s fearful tone.

“I said shut up!”

_Oh god, oh no no no no. Damn it!_

 He continued to keep his eyelids closed, willing himself to calm down, for Tom’s sake, telling his injured body to accede to his will. Forcing his breath to slow, counting the inhale and exhale. Inhale one. Exhale two.

After what seemed an eternity, he was back in control of his own body. Tom and Jeremy were gone. He jumped up, running in the direction of the road. If Jeremy had Tom, that was where he would take him. As he ran through the forest, screams sounded behind him.

“Robert! Tom!”

Robert spun around, to Chris tearing through the undergrowth, branches whipping at his face, as he raced towards him.

“Sebastian! He’s missing! He’s gone. He went off to pee and now I can’t find him!” Chris’s hair spiked up in different directions, his eyes bulging in his pale face. “It was only for a second, I don’t-“

“Jeremy is back, Chris! He’s taken Tom. Tasered me!” Robert shouted.

“What? Oh my god he has Sebastian! He has to! He’s got the both of them!”

The panic in Chris’ eyes threatened to filter across and enter Robert’s body. He told himself to not allow it to creep in.

“He would have a vehicle of some kind,” Robert said. “If he has them both, he couldn’t place them on his motorcycle. Probably a house nearby.”

Both sprinted up towards the road.

“Or he could be camping like us!”

“No, he’d want a place to keep them secure.”

“Unless he plans to kill them straight away.”

No, no no no. Robert refused to consider this plan.

They reached the main road and looked from left to right. Chris rushed up and pointed at the ground, to clear tire marks in the dirt, a good two hundred metres down the road from their camp site.

“He was here.”

*

They drove up to the cabin two hours later. Those two hours were a frantic rush throughout the area, checking out every campsite and house they could find, which lead to finding many a dead body (including a family who they had discovered seated at their kitchen table, all dead from self-inflicted gunshot wounds. One of the victims was a girl of around fifteen years old. Robert could not vanquish the image from his mind of the blood drenching her pale blonde hair). With each empty house, their hearts sank lower. Robert was starting to fear they had lost them forever, or they would find their corpses, when they came upon a cosy looking cabin, which was set a good kilometre in from the main road. A corvette was parked in front. Stepping up the wide balcony, Robert’s pulse hastened, when his ears caught the sounds issuing out from inside. Raised voices. Him and Chris looked at each other, before he turned the handle of the front door. Robert gasped. The door was open. He wouldn’t think Jeremy would be so stupid.

Both rushed inside, to an incredible sight. Jeremy sat in a kitchen chair by the table at the back of the room, with Sebastian standing over him, a pistol pointed at his chest.

“Stay where you are, Jeremy!”

Sebastian appeared thankfully unharmed. Although it took a moment for Robert to figure out what was different about him. Although he was not, by sight, injured in any way, his former facial hair had been shaved off.

“Sebastian!” Chris shouted.

“Chris! You’re here!” Sebastian hadn’t taken his eyes off Jeremy.

“Are you ok?” Chris rushed over to him. “Did this asshole hurt you?”

“Where’s Tom?” Robert asked.

_Please don’t be dead._

With a slight flick of his head, Sebastian gestured to the back room. His internal organs twisting around each other, Robert ran to the back room, slamming open the door.

For a moment, at the horrendous sight before him, his system flooded with ice water, his muscles seizing.

“No…”

Tom was naked and face-down on the bed, his hands tied to the headboard’s wooden rungs. His shaking frame attested to the trauma he had suffered. His tear stained face turned to look over his shoulder.

“Robert! Robert you’re here! I can’t believe it!”

Robert tentatively moved to his side, averting his sight from the bruise in the shape of a bite mark on his shoulder, the blood trailing down his inner thighs.

_I’m going to fucking kill the Asshole. It’s decided. That former friend is officially dead._

“Hey, I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Sebastian! Is he… is he ok?” Tom asked, as Robert undid his binds. He noted that Tom, too, was now shaved of facial hair. “He came in here… tried to save me…”

Robert noticed a detail that had escaped him previously. Perhaps he had been too caught up on Tom’s trembling, violated body. A balled-up pair of underwear sat on the pillow right next to his face. The underwear appeared slimy. It took a moment for Robert to work out why. He wasn’t looking at slime, but moreover, saliva, as though they had been shoved into Tom’s mouth.

“Right…” Robert allowed the anger to move up his body with the speed of a bullet and then explode out.

“Robert, wait!”

Robert sprinted out of the room, to return to the front room, where both Sebastian and a weary Chris held guns on Jeremy.

“Chris, give me the gun,” Robert said.

“Robert no!”

Robert spun around, to the still naked Tom standing in the door way of the corridor connecting the front lounge room to the bedroom.

“Please, don’t do this! Don’t become this for me!” Tom moved through the front lounge to stand beside Robert.

“But he…” Tears filled Robert’s eyes. Great, just great. Why did he have to get all soppy at this time?

_No, he deserves to die! What the Asshole did to you! He deserves to die!_

“Please don’t…” Tom placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder and Robert’s fury dissolved in a torrent of tears. “Don’t be a murderer for me.”

Robert appreciated the irony of a naked, violated man consoling him. With guilt sweeping through his system, he took off his coat and wrapped it around Tom’s naked body.

“Oh my god… Tom…” Chris whispered, eyes widening. “Seb, did he… also?”

“No…” The weapon trained on Jeremy shook. “But he was going to. He tied me to the table, told me after he was finished with Tom, then I was next.”

“Is this true?” Chris asked Jeremy.

 “You won’t hurt me,” Jeremy said to Sebastian, ignoring Chris. “None of you will. You’re all a bunch of assholes.”

“Wow! _You’re_ calling _us_ the assholes? Lacking in a bit of foresight there,” Robert said.

“Can we leave, please?” Tom asked. “I want to leave this place. I’m going to… I’m going to get dressed.”

Robert watched him stumble back to the back room, indecisive as to whether to follow him.

“What do we do?” Sebastian asked.

Killing Jeremy was out. But Robert would be glad to never see him again.

“We’ll tie him up. Loose enough so he’ll eventually come free,” Robert said. “Disable the car so he can’t follow us.”

As Robert spoke, Chris moved closer to Jeremy, his eyes ablaze in his pale face.

 “Why?” Chris asked. “Why, Jeremy?”

“Fuck you,” Jeremy said.

“I’m going to check on Tom,” Robert said, before rushing back to the back room and knocking on the door. “Tom? It’s Robert.”

Silence a moment, before the door opened. Tom had shoved his t-shirt and jeans back on. Robert noticed the underwear still lying on the bed. Though still trembling, he went to hand Robert back his coat. Robert shook his head.

“Keep it. I’m fine.”

Tom went to put it on and managed to entangle his arms. Robert reached to help but Tom shrank away and completed placing the coat on.

“Tom…” Robert was amiss as to what to say.

“Yes, this is terrible, alright,” Tom ran a distracted hand through his hair. “Thank god Sebastian wasn’t hurt as I was.”

Robert froze, utterly stunned. After the horror of what Jeremy had forced on him, Tom’s concern was for the safety of Sebastian.

“I will tell you everything. But, right now I just want to leave this place.”

Robert nodded, wanting to touch him, reassure him. Tom again surprised him by grabbing his hand and holding it. “It’s ok.”

Robert squeezed back.

“I should be the one reassuring you!”

“You’ve done more than that. You and Chris saved us.”

“I was too late!”

“As horrific as what he did to me was, I’ve decided that being raped is preferable to being dead. And he was going to kill us. I have no doubt about that.”

“Damn it, Tom…” Robert clutched his shoulder, pulled him gently forward, to embrace him, hands loose around his shoulders, not wishing to frighten him. Though still trembling, Tom melded into the touch.

They released and Tom squeezed his hand once more.

“When you came into the room… The relief that I felt… Thank you, Robert.”

Both returned to the front dining/kitchen area, where Chris had backed away from Jeremy, still holding the gun on him, as Sebastian set about tying him to the chair. Chris turned around to look at Tom and Robert, and gazed back at Sebastian.

“I’m not Steve Rogers,” Chris said.

“What?” Robert said.

“I’m not Steve Rogers. I want to be. I want to be just and courageous. This world…Seb…”

Sebastian finished tying Jeremy up and came over to stand before Chris, who kissed him soundly on the mouth.

“I love you,” Chris said, running his hands through his hair. “In this new world, with you here… And he tried to take that away from me…Was planning to rape you.” He released Sebastian and turned to Tom. “And Tom… what he did to one of the sweetest, most genuine men I have ever met. And for what? We tried to leave him. But he followed us.”

An odd taste entered Robert’s mouth, his heart picking up.

“This is a new world and I am not Steve Rogers,” Chris said. “I’m sorry, Tom. I know you will be against this. But, after everything he's done. No, I can't...I just cant...”

Tom understood what Chris was going to do before anyone else did.

“Chris, no, don’t!” He rushed forward.

Too late, Chris pulled the trigger on the gun and a bullet tunnelled through Jeremy’s forehead, blowing through the back of his brain and killing him instantly.

Tbc…


	6. Sebastian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the Stand inspiration becomes more obvious.  
> After this chapter, I plan on introducing more Marvel actors.

They strolled through the narrow trail, with the undergrowth lush and verdant on either side of them, the spruces towering majestic above them. Chris’ hand was firm in his, sating warmth nestled in his cells, rejuvenating his being. He did comprehend the irony of falling in love in the apocalypse, but did not proceed to ponder too far, morality-wise, further. Was it wrong, to experience such joy, with such suffering and death around him? Should Chris and he not have made love that morning, with the knowledge that merely metres away, lay the sleeping figures of their friends, who had lost so much? Sebastian’s clever mind failed to come up with an adequate answer, to quench his conflicted emotions.

Chris backed him up against the sturdy trunk of a flowering cherry blossom tree, cupping his jaw with such delicacy and kissing him in a through way in which Sebastian encouraged.

“Sebastian…”

The honeyed tones in which Chris said his name never failed to goose bump the flesh on the back of his neck.

“I don’t want to say life is amazing, what with the apocalypse happening right now, but…With you…”

“I know what you mean…Likewise, I mean.”

Chris’ grin drew the sunlight through the speckled shadows of the trees, racing Sebastian’s pulse, at his stunning visage. Their tongues melded together, once more, before they drew apart, and continued along the path, hand in hand.

“I had the most vivid dream last night,” Chris said.

“Hm?” Sebastian was distracted by the high-pitched call of a blue jay.

“I was standing in a playground and there was this little girl on a swing. I heard her laughter first. I came over. And she was…. I can’t explain it. There was a light to her. It was as though I was looking at the purest being…”

Sebastian stopped walking, his mouth gaping.

He had also awoken to a dream that had been fresh in his mind. However, as always, he had dismissed it as the sorting through of thoughts and memories from the past few days.

Upon seeing him, the girl swinging so high pattered her feet along the ground to stop the motion and graced him with a magic smile that emanated such love Sebastian almost fell to his knees, in worship.

_Coincidence, has to be._

“Black little girl? Gaped front teeth?” Sebastian asked.

Chris’ jaw hinged open. “She told me we were heading in the wrong direction.”

“We should go south, to Alabama?” Sebastian’s heart thudded in his chest.

The only colour on Chris’ face were two spots of pink on his cheeks. Slowly, he nodded.

“What’s going on here?” Sebastian asked. “We couldn’t have had the same dream. That’s impossible!”

“I guess, with two as close as we are…” Chris trailed off, biting his bottom lip.

Sebastian’s mind returned to the little girl’s smile.

“You’re right about her purity. I felt… goodness in her…. something akin to…”

“To god.”

Over revelation, a chill passed over Sebastian’s body. No, he didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Sharing dreams in the apocalypse.

Though Sebastian wasn’t a regular church goer, he held onto the Catholic beliefs taught to him by his father. God, Satan, heaven, hell. All humans were ultimately culpable, for their own lives. But what did any of this mean? That she was a Christ figure? Did that mean there was an anti-Christ roaming the world, as well?

No.

Sebastian told himself not to extrapolate too far into their shared dream.

“Chris, I need to pee.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’ll go on the bushes over there. You keep on the path. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Alright, don’t wander too far off.”

Sebastian walked away from him, trudging through the trees off the path to the left, vines snaring around his ankles, creeping up to attempt to entangle around his arms. Coincidence, he told himself. Had to be. People didn’t share the same dream. Perhaps both him and Chris had unconsciously viewed an advertisement displaying the little girl, in the department store. Or perhaps he hadn’t dreamed of her at all, but a different girl and Chris’ retelling had fused the memory in his mind.

Yes, Sebastian thought, unzipping his pants and relieving himself on the grass below, that made sense. He hadn’t dreamt the same dream as Chris, he’d dreamt a different dream but a bunch of neurotransmitters had been crossed, and now his brain was convinced it was, indeed the same dream. Memories were, after all, known to be faulty.

Convinced, he zipped up, took a step and paused, the hairs on his arms lifting. Shaking his head, he moved further forward. He wasn’t acutely aware of the man’s presence, until the arm shot out and grabbed him in a bear hug, slamming him back against another’s torso. Sebastian went to scream, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but was cut off by a hand shoved over his mouth.

“Don’t scream!” A circular object was shoved against his temple.

_Gun barrel… oh my god…_

His leg muscles felt loose and wobbly, and he moaned against Jeremy’s hand.

“Keep your hands crossed behind your back,” Jeremy ordered, dragging him backwards. “If you scream or make a noise I will shoot you. Then I’ll shoot the others. Starting with Chris. Nod to show you understand.”

With tears prickling at the edges of his eyelids, he nodded. For a moment, the hand moved off his mouth, before duct tape was slapped across his lips. His hands were then likewise bound behind his back with the tape. Sebastian glanced looking across, verifying Jeremy holding a pistol on him.

“Move! Keep moving. Try and run and I will find you and kill you.”

With his breath hyperventilating, and his thoughts whirling in his lightheaded brain, Sebastian told himself to keep calm, to do as Jeremy said and perhaps he wouldn’t be killed.

Jeremy wouldn’t hurt Chris.

Chris, who had the other gun nestled in his backpack, who would be wondering why Sebastian was taking so long to return to him. If Chris went looking for him…

Nausea clenched his oesophagus. What if Chris took the gun out of the backpack, used it on Jeremy, to save himself? Or, worse, Jeremy shot Chris before he had the chance to protect himself?

_I’ll do whatever he wants. Just please, please God, don’t let him hurt Chris._

For ten minutes they walked, until they came out of the undergrowth, to the main road, and a corvette parked in front. With the gun still pointed at him, Jeremy opened the back door and ordered him inside.

“Try and escape and I will find you and kill you. As well as the others.” He slammed the door and Sebastian was left in silence. Fear clawed at his stomach, tearing his innards.

_Please, I don’t want to die. Not now. Please…_

He reached his foot out and slammed it hard against the locked car door, which rattled but made no impact.

_Please! Somebody help me!_

His foot kicked against the locked car door again.

Twisting his hands, he attempted a new strategy; to break free of his binds. If he could free himself, he could run and warn the others. He twisted and turned, screaming from behind his gag, as he tugged and pulled at his wrists, to no avail. Sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He tried again, screaming from exertion, as he flopped around like a dying fish on the bottom of a lurching deep-sea boat, kicking at the glass back window and being rewarded as it cracked but did not smash.

_And if you do get free, what’s going to stop him from shooting Chris dead the moment he sees you?_

Sebastian collapsed, burying his head in the fabric of backseat cover, his breaths frantic in and out of his nostrils, from his previous exertions.

_Unless Chris is already dead._

“Please Jeremy…”  The cultured voice sounded, outside the window.

Sebastian sat up.

_Tom!_

The car door tore open and Tom was bundled inside, his hands also tied behind his back but his mouth ungagged. As Jeremy walked around to the front seat and got in, Sebastian noticed the stark terror in Tom’s eyes, echoed in his own.

“Sebastian, whatever happens, we’ll be ok. It will be ok,” Tom whispered.

Jeremy started up the vehicle and pulled away from the curb, and Sebastian pressed his forehead against the back seat, tears coursing down his cheeks. Tom’s brand of optimism, even in the direst of circumstances, wasn’t going to convince him now that they weren’t about to be taken away to be murdered, and possibly raped and tortured first.

“It’s ok…” Tom scooted around, so his bound hands brushed against Sebastian’s. As much as he appreciated the attempt at placation, it wasn’t working.

_I want to be with Chris. Why is this happening to us?_

“Jeremy, with whatever you have planned…” Tom said. “You’re a good person. You don’t want to hurt us.”

Jeremy didn’t answer.

“Maybe I didn’t appreciate what you’d done for me. You were right. I wouldn’t have survived without you. You took us out of Toronto. I was a mess. You helped me. I appreciate that.”

Sebastian grunted, pulling away from Tom. Although it was unfair, a part of him blamed Tom for his current circumstance. Why didn’t he leave Jeremy after the first time he was abused? If Tom and Jeremy hadn’t come together to Angola, they wouldn’t be in this current situation. He would be safe, walking the tranquil forest with his beloved.

_No, no don’t think this way. It’s wrong. He’s not the one to blame. Jeremy is._

“I’m afraid it’s too little, too late, Tom,” Jeremy said.

“What are you going to do to us?” Tom asked.

Jeremy again didn’t answer.

“Jeremy, please…”

Jeremy fell silent and so Tom did too. Sebastian wasn’t sure how long they were in the vehicle for. Could have been a few minutes. Could have been hours. Time had slowed to the inverse rate at which his heart was slamming in his chest.

Jeremy turned off the highway.

“Found this the night before. Cosy little place. No corpses. I followed you, all the way here from Angola. Kept my distance, so you couldn’t see me. At one point, I was sure I’d lost you. But then _he_ came to me. _He_ told me where you’d be,” Jeremy said.

“Who’s _he_?” Tom asked.

Jeremy didn’t answer, and Sebastian didn’t care, as he suspected a darker truth. _He_ was someone created in Jeremy’s sick psyche, to legitimise his psychopathic cravings.

They pulled up in front of a small wooden cottage with a wide veranda. Jeremy turned and pointed the gun at them both.

“Try anything and I will shoot the other, understand?”

Both nodded and Jeremy got out of the car and opened the back door. Realising he had no choice, Sebastian stepped out, with Tom behind him. Both walked up the steps of the veranda, with Jeremy trailing behind them.

“The door is open. We’re going to get cosy, us three.”

Sebastian opened the door and stepped in. In any other time, he would have found the cabin to be quaint. The couch had a pretty floral print, which matched the rug. A wood fire stove, with a box of ready wood sat next to the LCD television. The floral printed tablecloth draped dining table with four chairs surrounding sat to the back, in front of a compact kitchenette. This was where Jeremy directed them, forcing both to sit, as he undid their binds and rebound their wrists to the arms of the chairs; first Sebastian and then Tom. Although his chest hadn’t ceased in its monumental heaving and his heart was competing a sprint marathon of its own accord, the fact Jeremy hadn’t straight away tried to shoot or undress them Sebastian saw as a positive. Jeremy ripped off the tape covering his mouth and Sebastian screamed, as swatches of facial hair came off with it.

“You all think you’re so damned amazing. Always have,” Jeremy said, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite them. “But here and now. I have the power. I’m in charge. You shouldn’t have punched me, Sebastian. And then drawing a gun on me? Wrong move.”

“What are you going to do to us?” Sebastian asked.

“ _He_ told me I could have Tom. Sebastian, you were a bonus, thrown in,” Jeremy placed a hand on both of their legs. Sebastian flinched and pulled away.

“Don’t you touch me, asshole!”

Jeremy laughed. “I’ll do whatever I want!” He leapt off the chair and sat down on Sebastian’s lap, grinding into him.

“Get the fuck off me!” Sebastian shouted, as Tom concurrently shouted at Jeremy to ‘Please don’t do this, Jeremy!’.

Jeremy laughed again and moved off him. Sebastian breathed out, his tense muscles loosening.

“Who’s _he_ , Jeremy?” Tom asked, again.

Jeremy knelt before him, placing a hand again on his knee.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay? This was never about hurting you. I have a bad temper. But I’m going to be better, you’ll see.”

“What the hell? You just forcefully kidnapped us! How is this not hurting us?” Sebastian asked.

“I have issues of my own to work through. _He_ told me that. But, he also told me you can help me, Tom. We can go to Los Angeles together. And you’ll be good for me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all.”

Sebastian attempted to work through Jeremy’s change of character in his mind and came up short. This was close to the Jeremy he had known on set; calm, reassuring, willing to negotiate.

“What I want is for you to let me go. Me and Sebastian both,” Tom pleaded.

“Now you’re not…you’re not listening to me!” Jeremy’s voice rose.

“You can’t keep us here, Jeremy! This is a violation of our autonomy! You need to let us go!” Tom said.

“Always so smart,” Jeremy patted his thigh, before leaning forward. “I have a confession to make.” He took a deep breath. “I’m in love with you. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you on set. I remember that day. You were laughing with Hemsworth. And it was like being hit with lightning.”

Sebastian shook his head. There were no words, to begin to inform Jeremy the depth of his delusions.

“No, Jeremy,” Tom shook his head. “You’re not. Because if you were, you wouldn’t be trying to control me. Love isn’t control.”

“I’ll take care of you. It will be ok.” He ran a hand through Tom’s hair and kissed his cheek, before standing.

“I’ll be back in a moment, just  have to get some supplies,” he said and then walked through the lounge to the adjoining corridor, disappearing from view.

“What are we going to do?” Sebastian asked. “He’s crazy!”

“I don’t know,” Tom shook his head. “I’m at a loss…He truly believes what he’s saying. That’s the part I find most puzzling. Who is the _he_ he keeps speaking of?”

“Could be anyone! Could be Hawkeye himself. He’s lost it, Tom!”

Jeremy returned to the room, bearing a bowl of water, with two razer blades, shaving cream and a shaving brush.

“We have to look good when we meet _him_ in Los Angeles. Which means shaving off those scruffy beards of yours.”

He pulled out a chair in front of Sebastian and brushed shaving cream over his face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Sh… don’t talk. So, you two haven’t had the dreams yet. But you will. And he is incredible. He allows you to see all potential.”

At the mention of dreams, Sebastian’s body jolted.

“You’re coming to Alabama, right?” The girl had asked, giggling.

“Dreams? What dreams?” Tom asked.

Jeremy focused on shaving Sebastian.

“When you see _him_ , you’ll understand.”

There had been no man, in his dream, he was certain. There was only him and the little girl.

_Ruby. Her name was Ruby._

Jeremy finished shaving Sebastian, splashed water on his face and patted it dry with a towel.

“Gorgeous, Sebastian. Chris is a lucky man.”

“I want to see him again. Please, Jeremy,” The pleading tactic wasn’t working for Tom but Sebastian had to give it a try.

Jeremy scooted the chair over and applied shaving cream to Tom’s face.

“If he comes to Los Angeles as well, then you will. I’m told he will. It will work out for you, Sebastian. You’ll see. I don’t want to hurt you, either of you.”

Sebastian was silent, as Jeremy shaved Tom, coming up with, and discarding plans in his mind, to get them both out of the bizarre situation.

_And the dreams? What does this all mean?_

_Doesn’t matter. You can ponder on it later, providing you survive._

 Jeremy likewise patted the water on Tom’s face and wiped it dry.

“Yes, lovely. But then, you’re lovely regardless…”

“You need to let us go, Jeremy,” Tom’s tone was of a parent explaining to a child why they had been sent to the naughty corner.

“I can’t do that. I’m sorry. But hey,” he stood up. “What I can do is make dinner! I was thinking we’ll stay here overnight. Then start heading towards LA. By then, you two will understand I’m not going to harm you.” He turned back and frowned down to Tom. “He told me you are a compassionate man. You will listen to reason.”

“What reason?” Frustration sounded in Tom’s tone. “You kidnapped us, forced away from our friends, from the people we love! It is the apocalypse and Robert and Chris are the few sparks of joy in this terrible new world.”

“They will come to Los Angeles as well! It will be fine, Tom. You’ll see,” Jeremy ran his hands through his hair.

Tom violently shook his head. “Stop touching me, Jeremy! I don’t want to come to LA with you! I don’t want to go anywhere with you! Robert is right. I was so busy blaming myself, without coming to the conclusion that _you_ are the problem! I can’t make you understand how much I despise you! How much my skin crawls now you’re here with me!”

“Tom, you’re not-“

“Shut up! Just shut up, Jeremy! You listen to me now! I want nothing to do with you. You have no concept of love or friendship. You’re a blank slate, pretending to be human. You sicken me!”

For a moment, Sebastian dared not breathe. The air was suffused with tension.

“No! No no no no! This isn’t the way it’s meant to be!” Jeremy shouted. “This isn’t what I was promised!”

“I don’t care!” Now Tom’s voice rose, to meet Jeremy’s. “I don’t care anything about you, why can’t that penetrate that unsightly thick skull of yours? Your ignorance and stupidity is phenomenal, Jeremy! I wouldn’t think it was possible to meet a person of such denseness.”

All of the colour drained from Jeremy’s face, before diffusing the flesh with such rich blood it turned purple. His hand shot out and slapped Tom across the cheek. Sebastian gasped.

“You don’t care about me? You think I’m ignorant and stupid? _You’re_ the one who’s ignorant and stupid, Tom. I tried to prove to you my feelings,” Jeremy shouted, hastily untying the binds of his chair. “But you, you arrogant asshole still keep refusing to see what’s right in front of you!” He grabbed Tom and dragged him up out of the chair, in the same bearhug in which he’d held Sebastian.

“Let me go, Jeremy! If you love me as you say you’ll let me go,” Tom said, his voice shaking from the effort to stay calm. Sebastian could see, from terror flashing in his pale irises, that he understood he had gone too far, in provoking Jeremy.

“Wait, Jeremy! Stop! Let’s all calm down-“ Sebastian shouted.

Jeremy ignored him, dragging Tom out of the room.

“I tried to make it easy for you both! But you forced my hand! Both of you!”

“Wait! Wait!” Tom said, “Sebastian’s right! Tempers have-“

 “Shut up!” This time a punch connected with Tom’s jaw, as he was dragged out of sight.

Sebastian screamed, tugging at the duct tape around his wrists. “Jeremy! Jeremy!”

The chair bounced around in his struggle. He didn’t want to think what Jeremy was doing to Tom, how he may be hurting him. The chair skirted along the linoleum, before toppling to the side, slamming his hipbone hard on the ground. He gasped, crying out, sharp pain blooming through his body. For a good minute, the pain consumed him, before ebbing away.

“Damn it!” Sebastian rolled over onto his back, gasping. What to do? What to do now?

Footsteps sounded down the corridor.

“Now what have you gotten yourself into now?” Jeremy asked, righting the chair.

“Jeremy, Tom lost his temper. It happens. Let’s all calm down.”

A vulpine smile twisted Jeremy’s face, as he untied Sebastian. Before he understood what was happening, Jeremy pushed him back, his lumbar connecting with the back of the table behind, more pain flaring. He grunted, as Jeremy pushed his arms up.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t struggle or fight me or I will hurt the both of you.”

“You said you didn’t want to!”

Jeremy cupped his cheeks and pinioned eyes with him and Sebastian understood the truth; the other man’s talk of not wanting to hurt them had been a lie. He was more than willing to harm and even kill them. With ice cold water cascading over his innards, Sebastian froze. Jeremy grabbed his wrists and pulled them up over his head, looping rope around them and disappearing behind the table a moment. When he came up, Sebastian flexed his wrists, and realised he had been tied down, on his back, on the table, with his hands over his head.

“Now… be quiet and shut up.” Sebastian flinched as Jeremy trailed his fingers over his jaw. “You hold tight there. After I’m done with Tom, I’m going to pay you a visit. You’ll forget all about Evans once I’ve fucked you.”

An unwitting sob released from Sebastian’s mouth. “Please don’t…”

Jeremy grinned, ruffled his hair and sauntered out of the room.

_No! No no no no no no!_

With the promise of violation at the forefront of his mind, blind panic overtook Sebastian. He cried out, tearing at his binds with such roughness blood trailed down his arms. Time took on new definition. Rather than the true minutes, for hours, days, weeks, he was stuck in that room, awaiting his fate. Little by little, the rope began to give, the sweat of his struggling hands loosening the tape around them. He told himself to calm down, to focus on freeing himself. Gradually, he worked the binds twisting his sweaty hands, until he gasped, as one hand came free.

 _Yes, yes!_ He tore the other hand off the connecting rope and rushed to the kitchen counter, where Jeremy had, in his arrogance or stupidity or both, dropped the gun. No, he told himself he wouldn’t kill. Not again. The weapon was too heavy in his hands. But he couldn’t stand by and allow another to be harmed. With his heart primed to leap straight out of his chest, he rushed down the hall, tearing the door open.

Jeremy sat at the edge of the bed, pulling his jeans up with one hand, as he stroked Tom’s trembling back with the other. Tom was sobbing, sharp, keening sounds that shook the depths of Sebastian’s soul. Once, as a child in Romania, he had been walking in the woods, when he had found a dog, emaciated and half-dead from exhaustion, it’s broken leg caught in a bear trap. The dog had made a distraught howl of such despair that Sebastian eyelids always pricked with tears at the memory.

Tied up and violated, Tom made that sound now.

“Was that good, beautiful? Did I make it good for you?” Jeremy purred.

“Get away from him!” Sebastian ordered, his grief at Tom’s distress sublimating to anger and action.

Jeremy jumped, and looked at Sebastian, a comical surprise on his lips.

“No, you’re not going to-“

“Shut up and stand up! And do up your jeans! I’ve killed before. You know this.”

With his eyes flicking down to the weapon, Jeremy did as he asked. Sebastian ordered him out into the kitchen, at this point working on instinct. He had to get Jeremy away from Tom. That was his first priority. He ordered Jeremy down into the chair he had been on, pointing the weapon at him.

“Stay where you are, Jeremy!”

The door behind them slammed open.

“Sebastian!”

Sebastian’s legs trembled, almost collapsing out under him. Chris, his beloved, had come to save him.

“I’m ok! Chris, I’m ok!” Sebastian said, as Robert ran into the other room, to Tom. Without even needing to ask, Chris grabbed their gun out of his backpack and held it on Jeremy.

_It’s okay, it’s over. It’s okay, it’s over._

Robert rushed back into the room, with Tom following. Of course, Robert wanted to kill Jeremy. Sebastian couldn’t blame him. Perhaps Jeremy even deserved to die. But he agreed with Tom. In this world of death, even one more death was too much.

Tom returned to his room to change and Robert followed.

“Forget it, Chris,” Sebastian said, after Chris pled as to the reasons why Jeremy would act with such inhumanity. “It’s not worth it.” He grasped his bicep, feeling the trembling muscle. “He’s not worth it, Chris.”

“He wanted to rape you, Seb. He raped Tom. Again! Kidnapped you both!”

Sebastian pushed Tom’s anguished sobs from his mind.

“And you came for us. To save us.”

Chris looked back at Jeremy. “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

“He won’t!” Sebastian argued. “We’ll do as Robert suggested. Tie him up and leave him.”

Robert and Tom reappeared in the room. Tom had dressed and the animation had returned to his face, although his eyes still held the haunted glaze of when Sebastian had come into the room, after Jeremy had violated him.

“I’m not Steve Rogers…” Chris said, in a dazed voice.

“What?” Robert asked although Sebastian noticed he didn’t take his eyes off Tom.

“I’m not Steve Rogers. I want to be. I want to be just and courageous. This world…. Seb…”

Sebastian scrunched his forehead, puzzled as to the gist of Chris’ conversation. Glancing at Tom and Robert, they were also at amiss as to where he was going with his diatribe.

“This is a new world and I am not Steve Rogers,” Chris said. “I’m sorry, Tom. I know you will be against this. But, after everything he's done. No, I can't...I just can’t...”

“Chris no! Don’t!” Tom screamed.

Steve aimed the gun, pulled the trigger and blew Jeremy’s brains out.

For a moment, nobody moved.

“Well… shit…” Robert said.

“I had to! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sebastian…” Chris dropped the weapon and drew Sebastian into his arms. Sebastian returned the hug, pulling him tight to him He wouldn’t wish what he had gone through on Chris. He wouldn’t wish the anguish and horror of knowing he had taken another life. But now, it was too late. Chris would have to suffer what he had.

It decimated his heart, the acknowledgment of the innocence that Chris had now lost. But Chris would pull through. Sebastian would make certain of it.

“Please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Sebastian said. “What’s done is done. We just have to move on from it.”

Tbc…


	7. Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mapped out a lot of where this is heading.  
> And yes, will continue to be dark and twisted.

They came upon the motel ten kilometres outside the Pittsburgh town centre. Although they’d only travelled for a little under four hours from the border of Canada, the weight of all that had occurred there fatigued their overexerted psyches, forcing the need to make the stop. In the car park, Tom and Sebastian stayed in the car, while Robert and Chris checked the rooms for the inevitable corpses of the doomed souls who had marked the dilapidated motel, with the half-lit neon sign that now read ‘Mol’, their final resting place.

Though the old Tom would have insisted on joining his friends on their search, out of a desire to share the anguish of whatever new tragedy they came across, the new Tom was too trapped in his own contemplative thoughts, to care. Little conversation was had, on the four-hour trip. In any other circumstance, Tom would have been impelled to fill the silence with inane chatter. Now, he was grateful for the chance to stare out of the car window at the green landscape outside, to close his eyelids to each stalled vehicle they passed, as his thoughts rerouted, again and again, to the torment Jeremy had forced on him. When they passed a church with three cows lumbering around the front, Chris remarked that he was convinced they would find other survivors. However, as they continued driving into the United States, and, instead of live people, they found more corpses littering the roads, with the occasional animal of both domestic and non-domestic kind investigating, their spirits dragged down.

“How are you?” Sebastian asked, shaking Tom from his reveries.

All three of the others had asked him the same question, in a confidential manner. Although he understood their attempts to be consoling, it took all of his resolve not to lash out, to scream at them ‘I’ve been brutally attacked! How do you think I feel?’

_They’re trying to help, albeit in clumsy fashion._

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, over his shaved jaw. Jeremy had wanted them to be decent for the trip to Los Angeles, to meet _him_. What did that even mean?

“What I mean is, are you in pain?” Sebastian prodded.

Before leaving the house in which he had been kidnapped, Tom had gone into the bathroom, pulled down his jeans and digitally examined where Jeremy had forced penetration. Fresh blood trickled out and a sharp throb caused him to crouch to his knees, gripping the sink so hard his arm muscles ached. His chest had heaved, panic threatening to overtake. He had, of course, bled in the original assaults. However, Jeremy had been even more brutal, this time.

_If I am seriously injured, there would be more obvious signs, wouldn’t there?_

“I’m fine,” he said, his tone abrupt.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come into that bedroom sooner,” Sebastian’s blue eyes were overly bright.

“You saved me, Sebastian. He would have killed me. I have no doubt,” Tom squeezed the other man’s shoulder.

Fresh tears ran down Sebastian’s cheeks. He laughed and wiped the flesh dry with his fingers. “Cried so much the past few weeks. More than I ever have my entire life.”

“You have reason to. We all do,” Tom paused. “I’m so relieved he didn’t rape you too. At least you’re not tainted.”

Sebastian favoured him with an aggrieved, pitying expression.

“You’re not tainted, Tom,” he said quietly.

_I wish I could believe that, Sebastian._

Tapping sounded on the window and Robert’s handsome visage appeared behind the glass. Sebastian wound down the window.

“We found two rooms, adjoining each other. Shared bathroom. All corpse free. It’s everything you could ever want, in a motel,” Robert said, laconically.

Sebastian shrugged. “Guess it’s better than nothing.”

*

Once inside, Tom peered around the room, which appeared pretty standard. The two single beds bore crisp white linen and pillows. A plasma television was bracketed into wall above a wide bench, with bar fridge underneath. To the back of the room, before a lacklustre view of a road with a yellowing field of bored sheep beyond, sat a small wooden table with two chairs.

“Does anyone mind if I use the shower?” Tom asked.

Although, walking from the car to the rooms, they agreed that he and Robert would share a room, and Sebastian and Chris would share the other, all four men had piled into the one room. Robert had jumped on one bed, while Chris and Sebastian sat together on the other.

 All three answered Tom’s question in the assertive. Chris averted his eyes from him. Sebastian still bore the same concerned expression. Robert’s features were calm, although a dim rage bubbled below the surface of his dark eyes.

_First in the shower. The benefit of being a rape victim._

Tom locked the bathroom door behind himself, peeled off his clothes and examined his body, frowning. Finger shaped bruises marred his hips and blood still trailed down his inner thighs. His lean but muscular frame, which he had treated the way it deserved, with good food and exercise, was now injured and despoiled. The sudden, nonsensical notion overtook him, to apologize to his body, for allowing it to be so destroyed, but he refrained.

Trembling, he turned on the shower, adjusted the heat and stepped under thankful that the gas was still on, for now, gripping the complimentary soap, tearing off the wrapper and voraciously scrubbing himself. He reached between his legs and cleaned the area as best he could, despite the dizzying throb caused by even the gentlest touch, as he moaned in despair, his tears washing away with the water.

_You will get through this. Take it one moment at a time._

He stayed in the shower until long after the water turned cold, until his shivering body told him to get out or he’d become hypothermic. Drying himself, he noticed the smear of blood on the white material. A whimper escaped his lips, as he opened the cupboard door under the sink, and hid the towel inside, hoping no one else would go investigating in there. After dressing, he grabbed toilet paper and wadded it into his underwear. That would have to do, for now, to stench the bleeding.

The whispered conversation stopped as soon as he entered the room with the others, making him certain they had been talking about him. Chris and Sebastian were curled up against each other, Sebastian’s fingers caressing Chris’ hip. Robert, seated against the headboard of the other single bed with his legs folded, favoured him with a megawatt smile, and scooted across, patting the space beside him. Relenting, Tom sat next him, his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress.

“I’m annoyed I haven’t had any special little girl dreams yet. Am I not deemed worthy enough? I’m not trying to be arrogant but hell, I am me,” Robert said.

Tom frowned at him, unable to determine whether he was being supercilious.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Chris said. “Seb, you said that Jeremy spoke of another, a man who led him to us. Yes, it may have been his lunacy. But maybe it was something else.”

“And Jeremy didn’t even say if he was a looker. I want my anti-Christ to be one sexy seducer,” Robert said.

“He sounded convinced,” Tom said, ignoring Robert. “Yes, I believe Jeremy did speak to someone. The man wanted him to take us to Los Angeles.”

Robert laughed. “Well, if there is any place to restart hell on earth…”

“No, it doesn’t make sense,” Sebastian said. “Say, for argument sake, this man was some type of supernatural devil type being… I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this notion. Everything he promised Jeremy was never going to happen. Obviously.”

“Maybe this man enjoyed messing with Jeremy. Now that would make sense for Beelzebub reincarnated,” Robert said.

Tom yawned, covering his mouth. The oxycodeine were wearing off and, after all the prodding in the bathroom, the sharp sting was returning with a vengeance. Conversation about potential supernatural beings was beyond him, at that stage of the night.

“I’m sorry guys. I’m tired. Think I’ll retire to the other room.”

“Oh, ah sure…” Sebastian said.

“Good night,” Tom said, standing.

“Tom?” Chris’ cheeks were splotched pink. “I’m sorry I…. I have no regrets about killing Jeremy. I should feel wrong about this. But, with what he did to you. And Seb. No, I have no regrets.”

Tom stared back at him, wanting to tell him that wasn’t his choice to make. It robbed himself of the chance to make Jeremy understand the mental and physical torture he had caused him. It also robbed Sebastian of the chance to obtain whatever justice he needed for his kidnapping and near rape. Chris killing Jeremy wasn’t about him, or Sebastian. It was about himself, making himself feel better for taking out the bad man.

No, he couldn’t make Chris understand. Why bother trying? Chris did what his morals deemed righteous, as they all did.

“It’s fine, Chris,” Tom said, keeping his head down, to avoid Chris’ reaction, as he walked to the bathroom, before following through into the other room, and  closing the door behind himself.

_I can’t approve of what you did right now, Chris. Why isn’t it obvious that I’m barely holding onto my own lucidity?_

He sat on the edge of the bed, before noticing the flashing alarm clock. Opening the bedside drawer, he pulled the electronic device out by the plug and stashed it inside.

Eleven minutes.

After forcing him to undress, then tying him to the bed, Jeremy had whacked him on the left buttock and disappeared out of the room, telling him he was going to ‘attend’ to Sebastian. Tom had struggled so mightily against his bonds, determined to free himself, and save the other man, to stop the inevitable from occurring.

 “Damn you are positively delicious!” Jeremy had said, upon returning to the room.

He had then bit hard into his right buttock so viciously that Tom yelped. In response, Jeremy had shoved Tom’s own underwear into his mouth. As Jeremy then brutalised him, Tom had stared at the clock radio, departing from himself, as he had with the other rapes. Jeremy could do as he wished. Tom wasn’t there.

Eleven minutes, from the time Jeremy returned to the room, to him pulling out of his brutalised body, removing his sweaty torso off Tom’s.

Eleven minutes of Jeremy’s grunting and moaning and telling him how good he was, how lovely, how much he wanted it, wanted him, of him tearing his insides, as he bit into his shoulder, and licked his neck and face.

Tom ran his trembling hands through his hair, low sobs coming unbidden out of his lips.

Eleven minutes to remind him that in this new world, he was inconsequential. No longer the great movie star with such hopes and plans for the future. Here, he was a mere body to be used, or cast aside, as with so many others.

He wasn’t aware of the door opening, until Robert’s footsteps sounded towards the bed, Robert’s voice reached him.

“Tom…”

Robert sat beside him on the bed, plucked his hand from his hair and held it in his own, which was warm and strong. Tom was far away from him, the intensity of the memory too real, as though Jeremy was physically with him; his rough touch, his sweaty scent, his frenzied breath, close to his ear.

“Come back to me, Tom.”

As Tom calmed, his breath no longer hitching, the tears drying, he looked into Robert’s large dark eyes and pondered where he had learned such technique, for calming one when they were propelled from their own being.

“I used to disassociate,” Robert demonstrated his uncanny ability to read his thoughts. “When it all became too much, I went outside of myself. I learned techniques to bring myself back into my body. Mindfulness, mediation. I recognised the glazed look in your eyes.”

Once again, Robert hinted at a past as horrendous as Tom’s current life, if not more so. Tom did not wish to consider anyone wanting to harm one of the greatest men he had ever met. He reminded himself that Robert was strong, determined, kicked the proverbial butt of any disaster life threw at him.

“How is it now?” Robert asked.

Tom’s face scrunched, as more tears fell, the terror of his own mortality overcoming his shame. “I’m bleeding. I’m scared I may be…. Damaged.”

Robert’s features contorted with disgust.

 “Chris shouldn’t have shot him. That asshole died far too soon. Is it pretty bad?”

“It’s not terrible. It just… stings.”

Deep red now discoloured Robert’s handsome visage. “Do you need… one of us to…? I’m not even sure what we’d be looking for. I’m presuming infection or…”

“It’s not infected,” Tom said. “Besides, I’ve taken antibiotics, to be safe.”

Robert did not need to know specifics; that he would have to drink liquid foods for a few days. If using the toilet became excruciating, he could take a laxative. He’d taken a bottle off the shelf at the pharmacy, when Robert was perusing pain medication.

“What do you want me to do?” Robert asked.

 “There’s nothing you can do, unfortunately.”

Though Robert’s lips downturned, Tom could see the intelligence working in his dark eyes.

“I have an idea. But it will involve me touching you. Would that be alright?”

“What do you want to do?” He was certain Robert wasn’t going to offer sex, as a way to forget about the rape. But then, he wouldn’t rule it out, from the man.

“If you’ll recall my amazing massage technique.”

For the first time in hours, Tom smiled. “Ok then.”

Robert scooted behind him and kneaded his shoulders. Tom considered how he felt about Robert touching him this soon after he was sexually assaulted.

_It’s alright, no more than alright._

He moaned, as Robert’s fingers dug deeper. Robert pummelled his hands along his shoulders.

“Is that good?”

Tom froze, the memory flooding back, seeping poison into his already ailing psyche. Jeremy inside him, slapping against his back, ignoring his whimpers of pain.

_“Tell me it’s good, Tom.”_

“Stop! I need you to stop, now!”

Robert had already moved away, the moment he said the first stop.

“I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry, Tom.”

“It’s fine… fine…” Tom placed a hand over his heaving chest, his heart fluttering.

“I’ll go… over here…” Robert said, jumping over to the other bed and sitting down on top.

“You didn’t have to move. It’s fine.”

Tom jumped over onto the bed and cupped Robert’s jaw.

“Tom…” Robert’s brows furrowed.

_I told you, I’m fine._

Tom brushed their lips together, running his hands through Robert’s hair, which was growing out, to soft curls. Though Robert didn’t return the caresses, his tongue lapped with Tom’s. Grinning, Tom pushed him down onto the bed, laying on top of him. Robert’s erection pressed into his upper thigh. Waves of intermingling terror and excitement washed over him, and he tentatively reached down, stroking along Robert’s stomach.

“Tom…” Robert cupped a finger under his chin, to stop him from bending down and kissing him again. “I want you, ok? I want to invent whole new positions to make the people from the karma sutra blush. But not right now.”

“I see,” Tom said coldly, as he clambered off him.

“You’re upset I don’t want to be intimate with you? Damn it Tom you were raped less than five hours ago!”

“Yes, I remember!” Tom shot back.

Robert’s eyes shimmered with such compassion that Tom was torn between wanting to kiss him again and wanting to smack him.

“I know what you’re doing. Because I’ve done it myself. Using intimacy as a way to forget the pain. But it doesn’t work. Tom…” Robert again took his hand. “Believe me on this. It will make you feel worse.”

“I’m s-“

“It’s fine,” Robert said. To Tom, it was obvious he was sick of hearing him say he was sorry. “We’ve both had… let’s just leave it as ‘quite some day’. Acting a little nuts, on both our sides, is probably a sign of how sane we actually are. Although I do feel I’m always teetering on the edge of insanity, myself.”

“Most geniuses are.”

“See, now you’re confusing me with Tony Stark. As people are wont to do. Please continue.”

Robert was gunning for a smile, so Tom allowed him one.

“It’s getting late. Maybe we should try get some rest,” Tom said.

“Yes, because sleep will be so easy, after everything that happened today,” Robert went to move off the bed. Tom stopped him by gently grasping his arm.

“You can stay… if you want… No intimacy. I promise, I don’t drool.”

“I know that. But _I_ may. I’m told I have terrific night terrors.”

“Then we can have them together.”

“I must be a terrible person, because that’s enough to convince me,” Robert said. “I need to take off my jeans. I have boxers on underneath…”

Tom shrugged, nestled down on the pillow and pulled the covers up, as waves of exhaustion washed over him. He should take off his own jeans but was too tired to be bothered. Robert crawled under the covers and lay on the pillow beside him. Determining him to be too far away, Tom scooted closer and held his hand, touching their knees together. In response, Robert’s hesitant free hand trailed up his other arm and touched his hair.

“Can I tell you how sumptuous and beautiful you are right now, or is that too saccharine?”

Though similar words had fallen from his rapist’s mouth hours before, when Robert said them, warmth nestled in his stomach.

“ _Very_ saccharine,” Tom grinned.

“I can go worse. I can go chocolate fudge Sunday with sprinkles on top,” Robert said, as his light caresses of Tom’s hair sent fissions of rapture along his nerves.

“Hm…” Tom allowed himself to enjoy this moment of comfort and protection, fleeting in this new brutal world.

*

Laughter. A welcome breeze caressing his flesh. The scent of freshly mowed grass wafting into his nostrils. He walked through a field of grass and daisy lions, towards a playground, where the single occupant swung high on a swing, giggling. Tom stopped in front, and she stopped, her vivacious grin turning her gap-toothed face to one of inhuman beauty, touching Tom’s soul, with her innate goodness.

“Tom, I’m so glad you came!”

Although they had never met, a strong sense of familiarity overcame him.

“Want a push, sweetie?” He asked.

The little girl giggled and Tom stood behind her and pushed her, smiling as she sailed up into the air.

“I’m so excited you’re all on your way to Montgomery! I’ve got such a surprise for you, Tom! You’re going to love it!” The little girl giggled. “You can stop pushing me a moment”

Tom did as she bid, backing off, as she leapt into the air and landed gracefully on her feet, shouting “Ta da!” and causing Tom to laugh.

The little girl took Tom’s hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Jeremy wasn’t lying about the other man. Some will go to Los Angeles to be with him. That’s such a shame. Because not all of them will be bad. And not all who come to Alabama will be good. But you are. Don’t forget it, ever.”

Speechless with awe, Tom nodded.

“And so are the others who are with you. Yes, even Chris, despite what he did to Jeremy. If he asks for it, I will forgive him. Yes, I am about love and forgiveness, not suffering. And you have suffered too much already.”

“Are you…?” Tom was too awestruck to finish the sentence.

“I’m flesh and blood as you. I’m sorry I can’t take away your anguish from what Jeremy did to you. But I can take away the pain and bleeding. And be assured there will be no infection and that he didn’t give you any disease, when he forced himself on you.”

Tom looked down at their linked hands, heat scorching his face.

“The shame is his, Tom, not yours. Talk to Robert. He cares for you, more than you can comprehend, right now.”

*

Tom jolted awake. Robert still lay beside him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest enough to send Tom into an elated trance.

_This man is beyond stunning._

Pulling back the covers and stepping into the bathroom, locking the door, Tom undid his jeans and pulled down his pants, wiping between his buttocks. The toilet paper came back clean. Frowning, he pressed his fingers up inside him, to no stinging throb. He withdrew them. Again, no blood covered them. Moving to the sink, he washed his hands, before coming back into the room and climbing back under the covers.

“Robert…” He shook the other man.

Robert blinked and favoured him with a gentle upturn of lips. “Hey gorgeous man.”

_“He cares for you…more than you can comprehend right now.”_

“I dreamed of the little girl.”

Robert sat up straighter. “The playground, right? I did too.”

“There’s more… I’m no longer bleeding. She told me she could take away my pain and bleeding but not the torment.”

Robert’s eyes widened.

“That’s both amazing and terrifying, if true. What does this all mean? Could she really be…?” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is far too much for any of us to deal with. It’s bad enough it being the apocalypse, but now there’s all this paranormal healing juju craziness going on.”

“It is mystifying, it’s true.”

“So, no pain right now?”

Tom shook his head.

Robert cupped his jaw in his hands.

“That makes me happy.”

They brushed lips together, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, before naturally separating. Robert grabbed his hand and held it.

“We’ll find out, in a few days time, when we get to Alabama. Why does it have to be Alabama? Why can’t it be a fun state, like Florida? People can set up camp in Disneyland,” Robert said.

“Florida is not what I’d term a ‘fun state’. Too many executed prisoners, for one.”

“Isn’t it terrible when a serial killer can no longer destroy people’s lives?” Robert teased.

To show he wasn’t going to debate him, Tom flopped down onto the mattress, rolling over onto his side.

“Now this is disappointing,” Robert’s warm torso rested against his back, soft fingers stroking his arm. “I was hoping you’d use that studious, intelligent mind of yours to convince me otherwise.”

“…sleep…”

“… I would have kicked your pretty butt… debate wise…”

Tom was convinced this wouldn’t have been true.

“Sleep, Robert.”

“Alright, alright…such a hard taskmaster. I’m very turned on right now,” Robert kissed his left bicep and rolled away from him.

*

When he awoke again, Robert was seated and gazing down at him, an intense, dense expression convoluting his large eyes. Tom gazed back at him, determining to seek any answers, in the opaque irises. His mind again returned to the dream, to the little girl’s supposed insight into the other man. Robert smiled, and the intense moment was gone.

“Good morning, my beautiful, sexy nerd…Yes, I know you’re a nerd…”

“Nerd?” Tom yawned.

“But then, so am I. And you really do look lovely when you sleep.”

“Because that is not disturbing at all, you watching me sleep,” Tom joked.

Robert laughed. “I do believe it should be about context. I’m thinking about how lovely you look, not about how I want to skin you and wear you as a hat.”

“Even more disturbing. Perhaps stop now, while you’re ahead.”

“I’m ahead after talking about skinning a beautiful man. It’s already starting to be a great day, indeed.”

Tom grinned and shook his head. Robert had always been rather weird. But in such a charismatic way, that worked for him.

*

After checking which rooms were free of corpses, they stayed overnight the next night in a motel in Louisville, Kentucky. All four men again sat in the one room. Sebastian and Chris had acquired a battery-operated radio and sat at the table by the back window together twiddling with the dials. They had been adamant they would hear from other humans, now they were closer to Alabama. However, as they continued to twiddle the dials, they only picked up static. After coming out of the shower, Tom joined Robert on the bed, sitting up beside him. Though he was confirmed to have stopped bleeding, no matter how much he scrubbed himself, he couldn’t take away the sweaty scent of Jeremy. He would need another shower, before bed, he was sure.

“Feeling nice and refreshed after your shower, His British Gorgeousness?” Robert took Tom’s hand and kissed it. Sebastian caught the gesture and glared at Robert. In response, Robert stared back at him.  Tom caught the interaction and gave Robert a puzzled glance.

“I get it, Sebastian. You think I’m mutated amoeba,” Robert said.

“I didn’t say anything…” Sebastian turned back to the radio.

“You two be quiet a moment…” Chris frowned, as static continued pouring out the device’s speakers.

“What’s this about?” Tom asked, innards twisting around each other. “Is this about me?”

The silence that followed confirmed his theory. His guts were now caught in a tight vice.

“I would appreciate you including me on whatever issue you have, if it involves me.”

 “You do what you want, Robert,” Sebastian said. “You always have. I’ve been saying, Tom,  that maybe he needs to back off from you. I don’t think his particular form of using seduction to cure you of-“

“Seduction? I haven’t touched him!” Robert’s cheeks went bright red, as he let go of Tom’s hand. “I would never-“

“We all remember you on set!” Sebastian stood, so Robert did likewise. “You came onto each available handsome actor!”

“Not true! I didn’t come onto the other Tom…that would feel like paedophilia…” Robert frowned. “But this is not a set of a movie… strange, isn’t it?”

“Alright, everyone shut up!” Chris said.

“Yes, everyone shut up!" Tom's voice rose. " _I_ decide what happens to me! It’s disappointing you have been talking about me behind my back. Can all of you please stop treating me as though I’m a delicate flower who’s going to wilt if you look at me the wrong way? And that includes you too, Robert. All of you, stop trying to decide what’s right for me! That’s what Jeremy did!”

All three held identical shocked expressions. Tom didn’t care. He jumped off the bed and tore open the front door, storming to the second motel room door, opening it and slamming it shut, before planting himself down onto the bed. So, their gossiping about him was confirmed. Hurt lodged in his throat. He supposed they would justify their behaviour as trying to protect him.

_It’s not right. I’m a grown man. I make decisions for myself._

A knock sounded on the door. Tom ran a hand through his hair and crossed the room to answer. It would be Robert, maybe Sebastian, attempting to make appeasement. To his surprise, all three stood in the doorway. Tom stepped aside and allowed them to walk in. They all had the decency to appear contrite.

“I’m sorry Tom,” Robert said.

“Me too,” Sebastian said.

“And me,” Chris said.

“If I can speak for the others…” Robert said, as Chris and Sebastian both showed identical expressions of mirth, at him taking charge. “We all want to help you. We can see your anguish and we feel helpless. So, we’re acting like the blundering idiots we are and going about it the wrong way, trying to fix the problem.”

“You can’t fix this. Just as I can’t fix any of _your_ distress,” Tom said.

“I think we can all agree to stop trying to fix each other’s problems. And you’re right, Tom. Just because Jeremy was a maggot on a cow pat, doesn’t mean you’re a helpless victim who isn’t in control of his own life,” Robert said.

Tom saw no deceit in his large dark eyes.

“Thank you, Robert.”

“If that involves being with me, in some capacity, I’m all for it. If not, I’m all for that too…. That came out wrong…You make the decision. Not me, not Sebastian.”

“Not exactly. You have to be part of the process,” Tom said and kissed Robert’s hand. Sebastian’s face was downcast, Tom suspected with embarrassment for his former argument.

Observing the dejected faces of those around him, Tom decided to let it go. These were his friends. Any ‘gossiping’ on their part would have come from the place of concern for him.

“Should we all go back into the room?”

*

Twenty minutes later, Tom was laughing on the bed with Robert, due to the other man’s humorous anecdote about life on a movie set, as a child.

“…to be…” The voice came out of the speaker.

Sebastian and Chris gasped. Tom and Robert shot up out of the bed and ran over, to crowd around the speaker.

“…to be here. Yes, it’s me here again. And we are still on the look out for more survivors of this terrible atrocity…”

Everyone stilled.

“That’s Anthony! That’s our Anthony!” Chris shouted, his face pink with excitement.

Tom’s mouth flew open. No, no it couldn’t be! That would be too much of a coincidence.

“I’m telling you that’s Anthony!”

“You’re right! That’s Anthony!” Sebastian laughed and wrapped his arm around Chris’ chest.

Robert’s response was to collapse his head against Tom’s shoulder.

People… proof others had survived.

Echoing the gleeful faces of his companions, the tension ebbed from his being, to be replaced by characteristic wonder.

*

Upon arriving in Montgomery, Alabama, initial excitement vanished, as the streets of the clean, green city of square white buildings appeared to be deserted. Tom glanced at Robert driving beside him. Robert’s mouth was a thin line. Even Chris and Sebastian, who had kept up eager chatter, were quiet. They turned corners to a handsome white building ahead, with sturdy white porticos leading up to a dome roof top.

Two figures stood at the entrance.

Tom’s heart slammed in his chest, his hands shaking.

“My god…” Robert said. Glancing at his hands, Tom noted they, too, were trembling.

They drove closer, and the two figures walked down the steps. Robert pulled the steering wheel abruptly to the left, the car skidding and slamming the passengers forward.

“It can’t be… It’s… Oh my god!” Chris was out of the car before it had even stopped.

“Chris!” Sebastian shouted, tearing after him.

Tom and Robert pulled off their own seatbelts and followed them, towards the two women guarding the entrance of the capitol building.

“She told us you were coming!” Scarlett’s hair had grown and lay in a plait down her back, over the shotgun. Chris let out a cry of joy and then was in her arms. Soon, Sebastian, Robert and Tom were also involved in the hugfest. The woman beside her, Danai, Tom did not know as well. However, he still gave her a warm hug. Any other human he met, from then on, he decided he would hug.

“You’re alive! You’re alive!” Chris said. “Anthony, is he…?”

“Aaargh! You sons of bitches!” The voice rang out from inside the building. Anthony Mackie came running out. Both Tom and Robert jumped. Chris and Sebastian laughed simultaneously and engulfed Anthony in a three-way hug.

“There’s so much you’ll have to tell us! This is great! This is so fucking great!” Anthony said, hugging Tom and Robert also.

Footsteps sounded on the ground and the familiar figure skirted around one of the porticos, to stand before them. For a moment, Benedict stared at him, his eyes glittering with unrepressed emotion.

Although Benedict appeared flesh and blood, he could not help but decide this had to be a trick. Benedict wasn’t here before him, he was a trick of his overwrought mind.

“I thought you were back in London,” Tom said.

Benedict shook his head and Tom allowed the embrace. Unwanted scolding tears leaked out of the corners of his eyelids. As much as he was fond of his three companions of late, here, in this tiny town, thousands of kilometres away from London, was one with whom he shared the special, close bond of friendship. A sob broke out of his lips.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m so glad you made it here, Tom,” Benedict said.

“It’s been terrible,” Tom admitted.

At his admission, the gaiety of the moment ceased, the laughter and enthusiastic chatter dying, in the reveal of all they had lost.

“You’re safe now,” Benedict assured him.

They pulled away, and Tom wiped his face, heat radiating from his cheeks, at the awkward glances of the others, as Benedict hugged Robert, Chris and Sebastian in turn.

“Benedict is right! Dry your tears, my beautiful man, now is the time for celebration!” Robert slung an arm around Tom’s shoulders and played with the curls at the back of his head. “And before you guys start mindless conjecture, yes, Seb and Chris are totally an item.”

Chris and Sebastian glanced at each other and shrugged.

“Well, that’s no shock whatsoever,” Scarlett said, as Danai agreed. Benedict, however, did not take his eyes off Tom and Robert, an intrigue in the pale irises.

“There are more who would love to see you,” Danai said. “Including her, when you’re ready.”

Her. The little girl from the dream.

Tom caught Benedict’s eyes and returned his grin.


	8. Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel again the need to stress this is not meant to in any way resemble any truth, in regards to the real actors. If anything, the actors in this are ones I greatly respect. James Spader is a sociopath in this. In reality, he is incredibly charismatic and talented. Robert's past 'sin' was made up completely. Benedict is also one of my faves.  
> I have this mapped out, from here. Hence, though it is dark, it all will make sense.

Robert stood outside the heavy oaken door, tapping his fingers along his thighs, in a rhythmic, soothing fashion. There was a time when he had been convinced he had obsessive compulsive disorder. At different moments in his life, he was sure he suffered from a myriad of mental health issues; bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety. His doctors had never officially diagnosed him, but, on occasion, particularly at night, when the encroaching darkness constricted itself around him, he wondered if he had been lost in the system. There was no guide by which to compare himself. He suffered the occasional anxiety, but not the ‘deer in headlights’ type that froze Chris. He had known others whose depression had led them straight down to the path of suicide, had lost many a good friend.

Perhaps he wanted a diagnosis because it would explain the conundrum that was his life.

_That would be too easy for you, Bobby. And you don’t do easy. You never have._

Benedict paced in front of him, his boots clicking on the varnished floor, in a cadenced motion that kept jolting Robert from his inner deliberations. Neither of them talked. Of course, Benedict wasn’t there for him. He was waiting for Tom.

The door opened and Tom stepped out, his smile so wide and soothing that Robert’s morale immediately lifted by a few degrees.

“How was she?” He asked.

“Wonderful… just wonderful,” Tom said.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Benedict asked. “Come on, Tom. I have ridiculously English tea at my place. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Oh, but Robert would you like me to…?” Tom asked.

Robert would prefer him to wait but waived him off, not wanting to inconvenience him, when it was clear he wished to spend time with his good friend. Sebastian and Chris had also not waited, leaving straight away, to converse with Scarlett and Anthony.

_No one wants to stay for me. So much for me being the alpha of this little post-apocalyptic group._

No, he told himself that wasn’t true. Both Sebastian and Chris had also offered to wait for him.

Tom and Benedict’s feet echoed away down the corridor. He took a deep breath, ignored the fluttering in his stomach and stepped into the room, which turned out to be a spacious library, the shelves of books lining the walls in a semi-circle around him, reaching up to the ceiling. Pushed against the sides were a row of desks. A half-dozen beanbags littered the floor. The little girl sat on one in the centre, two barbies in her hands.

“Hi Robert, I’m Ruby.”

_She can’t be more than twelve._

The fluttering increased to agonised stabbing at the sight, and he clutched his abdomen, stifling a moan.

“I’m sorry this hurts you to see, Robert,” Ruby said, not looking up. “Unlike the others, you don’t believe this can be true. I can’t be real. By the way, you will see them again, one day. Your family.”

Robert glanced towards the door in which he had come in.

Tom had said the experience was wonderful? What amazing drugs had she fed him? Robert placed his hand over his heaving chest, longing to flee, to run to the car they’ d travelled down in and drive out of the town, out of Alabama… keep on driving…

“You have had such a difficult life, but have had such forbearance.”

_Forbearance? What twelve-year old talks this way?_

Ruby dropped her barbies and stood, taking his hands in hers. “I see all you have endured, including the one thing you can’t forgive yourself for.”

Robert’s mouth opened and closed and opened again.

An image, as vivid as it had been thirty years before, appeared in his mind.

_A twitching, bloodied body viewed through a back mirror, the legs bent in an unnatural position, the head caved in-_

“No!” He gasped.

“You are forgiven, Robert. You were young, scared. Yes, what you did was wrong. But you no longer need to blame yourself. I forgive you,” Ruby said.

Robert snatched his hands away from her, frightened tears spiling down his cheeks.

“What is this?”

_“… oh my god, I think he’s dead!”_

“Don’t be afraid. We must all face up to what we have done. Forgive yourself, Robert.”

“I need to… I need to go…”

“Yes, of course. We will speak again.”

Robert rushed out of the room and closed the door, thankful for the deserted corridor, as he bent over the ceramic pot of an indoor plant, in time for the dry crackers he’d had in the car to be regurgitated into it.

*

Robert coped with the reveal from the little girl the way he always did, when it came to dealing with the angst of his past; he pushed it as far way down as he could, and upped his natural charisma to the max.  He found out, courtesy of Scarlett, that the reason why they had not seen any people in the town centre, was because they all lived on the outskirts, where they had developed effective strategies of clearing out houses of bodies and dumping them in a local landfill. Robert was impressed they had achieved so much, in the months since the plague.

 Upon hearing famous Avengers actors had survived the plague and were now in the town, curious survivors came out of their candle lit domiciles to ask for autographs and photos. Robert found it titillating that, even in this new world, celebrity counted for a form of currency. He spent a good three hours of the afternoon conversing with fans, with the other new ones to the area (but for Tom, who Benedict had, perhaps wisely, escorted straight to the safety of his own home).  Upon recognising Robert, Sebastian and Chris’s clear exhaustion, Scarlett eventually ordered the enthused gathering to go home. Even former celebrities needed time away from the constant attention of the populous.

As they then perused the cleared houses in the area, Scarlett and Danai told their stories, which turned out to be similar to everyone else’s. The loss of family and close relatives, followed by overwhelming despair. As with Robert, seeing Ruby, after their own particular losses, was too painful to contemplate. Scarlett and Danai were together when the plague hit, as they had been working on the set of a new film. The two women were the soul survivors on set. They had picked up Anthony on route to Alabama.

“You’ll probably recognise our third housemate,” Scarlett winked. “Another celebrity. After hearing Tom’s at Benedict’s house, she rushed to go see him.”

“Who is it?” Robert asked, intrigued.

“Rene Russo.”

“She was in Thor, wasn’t she? Played Frigga, the mother.”

“And she is fiiine,” Anthony said.

“Anthony has been flirting with her nonstop since she arrived,” Scarlett said.

“And I’ll keep doing it. Tell Tom to back his English ass off.”

“Believe me,” Chris said, smirking at Robert. “He’s not interested in Rene.”

After perusing a house that still held the lingering scent of death in, they stepped out front, coughing, to two familiar faces standing just inside the front gate.

“How long?” Chris said, at seeing Hayley‘s protruding abdomen.

“Four months,” she replied, grinning.

“Of course _you_ would survive,” Robert said, hugging Chadwick, standing next to her and noting their held hands.

_Interesting…_

“So, you were pregnant before…?”

She nodded, face whitening. The group fell silent. A baby. A baby in this new world. Tears pricked at Robert’s eyelids. The concept was both awesome and hideous.

*

Robert picked a modest three-bedroom house that had been so hideously perfumed to hide the scent of death he was already building up a fine headache. The house, which bore tacky orange carpet throughout, had been the second place they’d investigated after meeting Hayley and Chadwick. He could tell the others were surprised at his enthusiasm for the less than thrilling abode. The truth was, he was feeling drained.

_The great extrovert needs to be away from people. Lost it, Bobby!_

He crashed down on the lounge room’s ugly lime green couch and allowed the tears to run.

_Again? Yes, why not? Why not indeed?_

Cries of despair and pain echoed off the house’s yellowing walls. Why was he still alive? He didn’t deserve any of this. He had been a bad person. Why couldn’t anyone else see?

“I would swap any of them… Any of them at all…” He whispered. He would give up it all, to see Susan one second more. “I’m sorry…”

Knocking sounded on the front door.  Good, it would be Tom, or Chris. He could handle seeing them-

Wiping his cheeks, he opened the door to yet another shock.

“Can I come in?” The man asked.

Robert opened the door further and the man stepped into the entranceway. No hugs were given. Both stood awkward, watching each other a moment.

“Glad to see you, Robert,” James’ smile never quite reached his irises. Bright blue, as Tom’s, but lacking in the Englishman’s warmth and vitality. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you as soon as I heard. I was on body clean up. Yes, it was my idea.”

“What happened with you?” Robert’s intrigue overcame his distaste.

“The usual… people dying around me…I found Benedict just outside New York. He’d come to do talks with the studio for a Sherlock Holmes movie. Found him sitting in the middle of a four-lane freeway. Shell-shocked.”

Robert folded his arms. Here, away from the constant need to be on good terms, for publicity sake, he didn’t need to pretend to be fond of the man before him. After Jeremy, he was not going to pretend with anyone ever again.

“What’s wrong, Robert? You’re acting rather cold towards me,” James’ eyebrow raised.

“What are you doing here, James?”

“After finding out a friend has survived the apocalypse, it’s customary to give them a visit.”

“We’re not friends.”

James laughed. It had never occurred to Robert how cold the natural response to humour, for the older man, sounded. He had been young when they had met and it had taken a while, for him to understand what James was. Robert recalled how well James and Jeremy had connected, on the set of Age of Ultron, often disappearing together, to booze up at local bars. In retrospect, it all made sense.

“No, we’re more than friends, aren’t we?” James reached out and grabbed his left buttock.

“Leave me alone!” Robert snarled, shuffling back, the flesh stained, from where James’ hand had groped. “Touch me again and lose that hand.”

“Oh please…” James rolled his eyes. “You can’t pretend you didn’t love each moment we were together.”

“Twice! We were together twice!”

The first night had been…. Robert didn’t even want to consider that first night, so many years before. They had gone each other as ferocious animals, tearing off each other’s clothes and biting and scratching. James had been rough, in penetrating him. Robert had screeched so loud in orgasm, he was certain to have awoken the neighbours. After, shame had caused him to avoid James, to disregard his repeated calls.

The second time had been three weeks into pre-production of Age of Ultron. Robert wanted to consider that even less…

“Yes, and it was amazing!”

“Fuck you!” Robert spat.

“Such a potty mouth, for someone so usually verbose.”

Knocking sounded on the front door. With trembling legs, to match the shake of his innards, Robert crossed the lounge room to answer. Tom stood on the other side, smiling.

“I was told by Sebastian this is your new house.”

For the first time ever, Robert wasn’t sure whether to let him inside.

“Come on in,” Robert said, his yearning for Tom’s natural cheery nature overcoming his concern at Tom and James being in the same room together.

Tom stepped inside and, upon seeing James, remarked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company!”

“James was leaving,” Robert said.

“Tom! Heard so much about you!” James said.

“And you! Pleasure to meet you!” Tom shook his hand. “As much I have enjoyed your more cerebral films, Stargate was pure escapist fantasy.”

“He has good taste. I see why you like him,” James said to Robert.

“Anyway, so you were leaving,” Robert said, glaring at him.

“Alright, alright now you have preferable company,” James smiled at Tom.

Robert exhaled, as he left the door. He told himself he wasn’t sure why James was affecting him so strongly.

_You know why._

“Is everything alright?” Tom asked, the lines in his forehead deepening, as his eyes flicked to the door.

“Fine… What is it in your hands there?”

Tom was carrying a kettle, portable gas cooker and a Tupperware container.

“Benedict has ridiculously English tea in his house. I had to come make you a proper cup. With due respect, and to keep the antagonism going between us English and you American’s, you can’t make tea to save your lives.”

“You can’t save your lives at all. Look at the War of Independence.”

Tom laughed.

“That’s dreadful,” he said, before leaning forward and indulging in a more than satisfying kiss, with Robert.

“Now, tea.”

*

Although Tom didn’t stay over, Robert enjoyed a pleasant afternoon of tea, chatting and the occasional hug or kiss. After, he walked Tom back to Benedict’s, two streets over. Benedict had offered for Tom to stay with him a while, for which Tom had accepted, telling Robert he needed the company, and suspected Benedict did, too. Later, Chris, Sebastian, the hyperactive Anthony and Scarlett visited. He went to bed that night managing to push his angst away from himself.

Of course, the calm wouldn’t stay.

James returned at around morning tea, the next day. Robert had dressed, styled his hair and had his hand on the door handle, his mind tracing the route he would take, first to visit Tom, followed by Chris and Sebastian, when the knocking on the door caused him to flinch.

“Well, hello there. You were rude to me yesterday. It’s okay, I’ve decided to let it go,” James said as he opened the door, stepping into the lounge room uninvited.

“James, I’m about to leave. What do you want?”

James strolled over to the dresser and picked up one of the trinkets on the surface; a bell that had belonged to the now deceased ex-owner. He gave it a shake, tinkling sounding around the room, before placing it back down again.

“I’ve been thinking how hard sex is to come by, in these times, with the majority of the population dead. Of course, it’s always easier to seduce a man, than a woman, don’t you think?” James asked, picking up a ceramic plate and pretending to examine it.

_He seriously cannot be thinking of-_

“So how about it? Should we go to the bedroom?”

Robert’s jaw unhinged. He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised by James’ offer. But it didn’t make it less scandalous.

“How about no? Absolutely not!”

“You’re not going to get anywhere with Tom. Forget it. I’ve been asking around and it appears our old friend Jeremy went a bit too far with his crush and raped him- “

_Went a bit too far with his crush?_

Ice cold water chilled Robert’s cells.

“You need to leave, right now.”

“He seems nice enough. A bit wide-eyed innocent for my tastes but each to their own…” James’ upper lip curled and he now turned from the dresser, to face Robert. “Does he know everything? Everything you have done?”

Robert experienced a blurring of circumstance. James, from five years earlier, asking him a similar question.

_“How much does the public know of your true past?”_

“He doesn’t have to know,” James’ voice lowered. “Let’s come into the bedroom.”

Robert glanced into the open door. No, he couldn’t…

_Not again…_

But Tom, his scarred psyche shot back. Do you want him to know? Do you want any of them to know?

“Don’t make me do this. I can’t…” Robert whispered.

James closed the gap between them and ran a hand through his hair. “I think you can.”

_“What’s it to be, Robert?” James’ hands were so soft in his hair. “How much do you value your current lifestyle?”_

“No!” Robert smacked his hand away and chopped a palm into his throat. James collapsed to his knees, gasping.

His mind went to the little girl. Sweet Ruby. She forgave him.

He needed to forgive himself.

No, he couldn’t. It was impossible.

_He’ll hate you. He’ll never want to see you again._

“I’ll tell him. I’ll tell all of them, if need be. But I’m not sleeping with you again. Now get out!” Robert kicked him onto his back, where James lay gasping and stepped over him.

*

Benedict’s house was nicer than his own, with creeping flowered vines covering the front walls and the blinds drawn up, to reveal handsome lounge room furniture. Tom sat on one of the chairs with Benedict opposite, both in clear deep conversation. Robert watched outside a moment, envy coiling his intestines, before knocking on the front door. Benedict answered.

“Hi there Doctor Strange, is Loki in?” Robert’s voice sounded odd, in his ears.

Tom appeared around the corner of the foyer, a wide grin beatifying his already lovely features. “Well, hello there!”

“Can I…? Can I talk to you…?” Butterflies beat at the walls of his stomach. Both Tom and Benedict’s brows furrowed. They resembled brothers, in that moment.

“Of course!” Tom stepped out, touched his shoulder. “Everything alright?”

_Why do we keep asking each other, when the answer is always going to be no?_

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong?”

Robert waited until they had walked past the rows of mainly empty houses, crossed the street and were seated on the incline leading down to the empty park, before he was comfortable enough to answer.

“This is the park, Robert! I’m convinced! The park from the dream!”

Robert surveyed the playground equipment before them, in particular, the swing and cut grass from his own dream. Perhaps… but then many parks were similar. He wasn’t convinced.

_But Ruby was real. She asked you to come here. And you did. She knew about your worst secret. Why the hell can’t you believe it’s the same damned park?_

Tom gripped Robert’s arm. As he turned to Robert, his smile withered.

“It’s James, isn’t it? What’s going on between you too?”

“There’s something I need to tell you. Something that happened a long time ago…”

Tom focused his attention, with characteristic intensity.

_Well, hell. You really were fun and sweet company._

“You once told me you knew I was a good man,” Robert said. “I’m so sorry to dispel your illusions. It was not long after Less than Zero came out. I was a mess… just completely fucked up. I was with James… and I was driving…drunk…” A soldier ant scuttled across the ground in front of his feet, followed by another. _Just keep trundling along, you’ll get there, little man._ “I hit someone. Homeless man. Came from nowhere. He was dead. I’m sure. So bloodied. I…” Shameful tears ran down his cheeks, to drip off his jaw. “I drove off. I’m so sorry… so sorry…” He covered his face with his hands.

The silence stretched out between them. Six ants now trundled along after the first two. In the far distance, a bird tweeted.

“Robert, that man was a human being, not trash to just be cast away,” Tom whispered. “I don’t understand how you could…”

“I-I panicked. The only other person who knows is James. He was with me. Told me we couldn’t save him. If the police became involved, that would be the end of my career.”

“Oh Robert…” Tom said, sounding as a school teacher disciplining a wayward child.

 “I never even told Susan. The shame has eaten at me for years. I wanted to go to the police but the shame…We went back to James’ place and… I was intimate with so many people back then. I felt such shame after. Was just civil to him, after that, whenever I saw him. Later, on the pre-production of Age of Ultron, James threatened to go public. Didn’t seem to matter that he’d be exposed too. I knew it would damage my career. So, I agreed to spend one night with him. I hated every minute of it. Made me sick to the stomach. Never told anyone about that, either.”

Tom’s cheeks paled.

“That sick son of a bitch raped you!”

“No, I agreed!”

“You had no choice! Coercion is still rape! Oh my god, Robert, I’m so sorry. I suspected something had happened to you, but I…”

“I killed someone, Tom! I’m a terrible person!”

“It was an accident. Yes, you shouldn’t have been drinking. And you shouldn’t have driven off. But it sounds as though your guilt has been destroying you, for years,” he paused. “I’m sorry my first reaction upon hearing was to judge you, to reinforce that guilt. That was wrong of me.”

“The little girl…Ruby… she said…” He sobbed. “She said she forgives me. But I need to forgive myself. She knew.”

“Someone’s coming,” Tom said, spying a figure coming forward in the distance. He took Robert’s hand. “How about we go back to yours? I’ll make tea. Yes, being back with my good friend Benedict, I’m feeling incredibly English, at the moment.”

Robert squeezed his hand, amazed. He had confided his greatest secret, and Tom hadn’t abandoned him, or conceded that he was a bad person.

“We need to go back to Benedict's first, I’ll tell him I’ll be at yours for a while. So odd, this post mobile phone world,” Tom said.

_He knows the truth and he hasn’t abandoned you._

Giddiness flooded his system, overturning the former anxiety.

“Yes, where else are we going to now judge each other on our looks for hook-ups? Bars again? I’d rather a photobrushed photo than beer goggles,” Robert made clear his sarcasm.

Tom grinned but failed to laugh. Robert vowed to change that, as soon as he could.

*

“How is he?” Robert asked, once they’d passed three houses down from Benedict’s.

Tom bit his lip. “I’m worried about him. He was in the JFK airport, about to catch a plane back to London when the communications went out. He told me it was pure chaos. People went into fully fledged panic. Some were trampled. He clearly feels terrible, for leaving his family in England to perish. That’s partially why I want to stay with him. Keep an eye on him.”

“Sounds like you’ll be keeping an eye on each other. I can only think that would be a good thing.”

“He was with James… I don’t believe James did anything to him.”

“No, James was always crafty. Careful in picking his targets. Men who he saw as above him, those were the ones he wanted to bring down,” Robert said.

“Who else do you know of, other than yourself?”

“Just rumours… a couple of the other actors on the set of Boston Legal. He apparently didn’t like Kurt Russell.”

“How could anyone not like Kurt Russell? The man is a treasure.”

Robert beamed, bemused by Tom’s hero worship.

“You hungry?” Tom asked. “There’s a supermarket up the road. I make an amazing spaghetti…” He frowned. “Actually, forget it.”

“Forget what? You were about to offer to cook for me, weren’t you? No, I’m not going to forget that!”

*  
Three people rushed at Robert as soon as he crossed the turnstile of the supermarket.

“Robert! Robert!”

Grinning, Tom slipped away from him, safe in his real life non-resemblance to his most famous character, Loki.  Robert was not in the mood for entertaining fans but forced a smile and allowed his natural charm to coast him by. After fifteen minutes of one woman talking through how Tony Stark was her soul mate in the astral plane, Robert excused himself, stating he was in a rush, due to severe stomach cramps. Though disappointment was clear on their faces, the group dispersed.

Searching the shopping centre, he found Tom at the frozen meat aisle, talking to Hayley and Chadwick. Chadwick’s arm was loose around her waist.

“Just felt bubs kick,” Hayley smiled, as Robert drew closer.

Chadwick’s smile could not be prouder.

“So how did you two…?” Robert asked.

“It’s a long story,” Hayley said. “When the plague hit, I was in Dallas, researching a role of a death row nurse…. Yes…”

“Intense,” Tom said.

“I was with my partner at the time, already a couple of months pregnant. When they discovered I was potentially immune, they wanted me to become a lab rat for them, in the hospital attached to the prison I was working at. I refused. Anyway, after… the worst of it was over, I still remembered that hospital. I went in and found five people they had been testing for a cure, locked in their own hospital cubicles. Chadwick was one. Rene was another other. They’d killed three more who were immune…”

At this, Tom grabbed Robert’s hand and squeezed it. That tiny action told Robert everything about the source of Tom’s distress; Sebastian and Chris. How close they had been to death.

“From there things progressed,” Chadwick said, squeezing her shoulder.

Loud laughter sounded behind them. Tom and Robert spun around, to Anthony, Chris and Sebastian entering the store.

“So, it’s an Avengers gathering,” Anthony said, in his usual loud voice. “We’d better not be reinacting Civil War, or I will kick all your asses, so help me god.”

Sebastian and Chris laughed.

“You are clearly delusional, Anthony,” Sebastian said.

“You guys haven’t been told about the town meeting, have you?” Chadwick asked.

“Town meeting?” Robert asked.

“Oh, those town meetings are so dull… You guys try to keep them entertaining… but if I have to hear one more talk about the lack of progress with the electricity board…” Anthony grimaced.

“We try and keep them relaxed and fun…” Chadwick’s cheeks dusted pink. “We have a… well it’s a board, of sorts. There are ten of us, including me, Hayley, Rene and James.”

Robert’s hand clenched Tom’s tighter, at James’s name being mentioned.

“Once a week, the town gets together in the local school gymnasium. We provide food and drinks. An excuse for the town to get together. We give talks about what we’re doing, how the town is coming together.”

“See? Dull,” Anthony said.

“You all just missed one. The night before you guys arrived.”

“It will be good to meet the rest of the town,” Robert said.

“Come on, let’s get sultanas,” Tom said.

*

Robert crept out of slumber land, to soft kisses along his shoulder.

“Mm…” He partially turned, to catch Tom’s mouth with his own. “Good morning gorgeous.”

“Good morning,” Tom’s smile lifted his erection even further. “Coffee?”

“Sounds good.”

Tom pecked his lips once more and jumped off the bed, deliberately, he assumed, allowing him the time to go into the bathroom, lock the door, and grab his erection in hand, imagining the other man’s soft pink lips covering the turgid flesh. In the week since he had confessed to him, Tom had stayed the first night with him and, though he visited Benedict every second day or so, had spent every night with Robert since, essentially moving in with him. Apart from the curious and shocked townsfolk who didn’t know them well, that Loki and Tony Stark now were an item, didn’t phase any of those who did know them. Robert sighed, as his orgasm hit, come hitting the toilet lid. Not that they were an item, Robert thought, as he used toilet paper to wipe the lid clean and threw it into the bin. Not entirely. They could kiss and embrace, but Tom was not at the level to want to be intimate, yet, and Robert wasn’t going to push him. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands and walked out of the bathroom.

Tom stood in their kitchen, pouring gasoline into their portable stove, before placing their kettle on top. Robert came over and kissed the side of his neck, running a hand through his hair.  The fact that they were already so domestic did not escape his attention. He told himself not to consider it too much, to take one day at a time.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Tom said.

“What was I saying?” Robert asked, wrapping an arm around his waist as Tom grabbed the instant coffee and spooned in a teaspoon each, before doing likewise with the sugar for Robert.

“Telling me to get rid of the purple butterflies above your head. You were swatting them with your hand,” Tom giggled.

Robert laughed along with him.

“As Donald O’Connor said in the Sound of Music, ‘make ‘em laugh, make ‘em laugh!’”

“’Don’t you know the world wants to laugh!’” Tom sang along with him. Both launched into a chorus of the musical song together, as Robert grabbed him and swung him around, before ending on one knee, his arms outstretched, waving jazz hands. Both laughed again and Robert stood and kissed him thoroughly. When was the last time he laughed so freely?

And when was the last time he had such an intense discussion about what rights should be given to the worst of criminals, without launching into an argument, as he’d had with Tom the night before, seated on the couch, speaking calmly, their arm around each other’s waists?

Aspects of the man before him never failed to delight; the enthusiasm Tom gave to everything he did, from his moderate cooking skills, to his admitted less than par drawing skills. They had proudly used blue tack to stick the pictures they had drawn, in a rush of creativity one night, on the fridge. This amused Anthony, the next morning, when he visited with Sebastian, Chris and Scarlett, and he spent most of the night chiding them for their childishness. Nevertheless, the next time they say Anthony, he showed them the picture he had drawn. He was more skilled than either of them.

Tom was, of course, polite and sweet and charming, but there was a dry wit to him, a subtle sarcasm that surprised even Robert at times. Despite his innocence, he had a keen insight into the many layers of existence, was aware of the curveballs life could throw. The more he learnt about the subtle nuances of the man before him, the more his heart expanded, and yet dimmed, at the same time. A part of himself told him it wasn’t right. With everything that had happened before, with all they had lost. It was an insult to the memory of his family, of Susan. Another part was enjoying himself too much to care. There would be a reckoning, he was sure. But, he refused to fathom, refused to look past his own current joy.

“What’s the plan for today?” Robert asked.

“Told Rene I’d have lunch with her. I suspect Anthony will make an excuse to come too. Oh, and that town meeting is tonight.”

“So, hundreds of people wanting autographs… sounds fun,” Robert made clear his sarcasm.

*

“You’re the new big thing, they’ll get over it,” Scarlett said, after Robert managed to move away from the chattering throng around him, to the corner of the room, to grab nibbles. Tom had experienced the craziness- particularly from a large contingent of women, but was escorted away by Rene, who told the disappointed fans she needed to talk to him in private. Standing on the other side of the room, champagne glass in hand, as he continued conversing with Rene, Tom smiled at him, before focusing on his Thor colleague once more. Sebastian and Chris had come into packed venue, with Anthony, and the crowd had moved on, to them. “They did with me. And Anthony. And the rest. What is our celebrity worth in this world? Nothing. Everyone is equal now.”

“Natural genocide is a great leveller,” Robert said.

 A sad smile uplifted her lips.

“I’ve got to be honest. I was asked to be part of the initial council, being one of the first ones here. So was Benedict. Both of us declined,” Scarlett said

“Why is that?”

“I’m not sure if we should be putting so much stock in building society again, yet. It’s human nature to want to come together yes. But it’s all happening so fast…Notice Ruby isn’t here? She never comes to these things.”

“I haven’t seen her, since that first time. Who takes care of her?”

“No one. She takes care of herself,” Scarlett said.

“There you are,” Danai came up to her. “Hi Robert. Chris and Sebastian need rescuing.”

“It would appear so. Excuse me,” Scarlett smiled.

Robert looked around the room. Five hundred people at most, gathered together. His heart clenched in sorrow, for that had been lost. The room was lit by battery powered torches and candles. As were all of their houses. High school gym, but not a child in sight. The playgrounds were bereft of sound.

He spotted Benedict in the far corner, drink in hand, staring morosely around the room. Cradling his orange juice in his hand, Robert made his way over. Tom had been giving hints through out the week of Benedict’s melancholy. Seeing him there, that night, the dark circles under his too pale skin, Robert now understood.

“You look how I feel, like a good book by heater would be preferable right now,” Robert said.

“How are you getting along with Tom?” Benedict asked.

“He’s fine. He’s good.”

Robert’s grin faltered, at the emotion colouring Benedict’s genial features.

“He told me. Everything that happened to him. He has suffered so much…You shouldn’t be doing this, Robert. Tom deserves better.”

“What Tom deserves…” Robert said evenly, ignoring the hammering of his heart. “Is for people to not tell him what he does or doesn’t deserve.”

“I know, okay? I know everything!”

“Know everything about what?” Robert asked, flabbergasted.

“I’m not going to allow you to use him, like you have all the others.”

Robert’s innards collapsed down onto themselves.

“Have you been talking to James?” _Oh Benedict, I thought you were smarter than this._ “I understand you are feeling down right now-“

“Yes, James told me how you used him, for your own fame.”

“Used him?” Robert’s hands trembled.

“I don’t know what you have planned with Tom-“

“If you were as close friends with him you would trust his choice, over anything James has to say!” Robert said.

“How dare you!” Benedict’s face drained of blood. “Tom has been one of the few people who has reached out for me in the past week. If it wasn’t for him, I’m frightened to think what I would have done!”

Guilt clenched his heart, at Benedict’s insight into the lack of attention given to him by his so-called friends, other than Tom, throughout the week. Robert had only visited that one time, to see Tom. He didn’t recall any others- Sebastian or Chris either, talking of visiting. But why? It wasn’t as though they weren’t fond of Benedict. Perhaps it was that they shrugged him off as Tom’s good friend. Tom’s to deal with.

But then, Benedict was acting like the pimple on the end of a hairy tush. As a consequence, Robert didn’t need to speak to him any further.

“I’m sorry you have been feeling so low. I truly am. And you’re wrong about me,” Robert shook his head, moving away. He half-expected Benedict to call him back.

“Is everything alright?” Chris asked, coming up to him.

Laughter rang out behind them. Robert glanced back, to Sebastian and Anthony whispering together. Robert glanced back towards Benedict, who was staring at the floor, with a glum expression.

“Benedict is not in the best mood.”

“Who is? He’ll be alright. Tom will brighten anyone’s mood,” Chris said.

Robert doubted even his good friend would be able to uplift Benedict.

*

“I’ll be alright,” Robert overheard Benedict saying to Tom, as he came up to stand beside Tom. Benedict’s eyes flittered down to the dusty floor. “You go home with Robert, it’s fine.”

Robert waited until they were out of the hall, and halfway down the street, before opening his mouth to ask.

“We had… well, I wouldn’t call it an argument. More an intense discussion. I tried to be subtle in warning him about James. Didn’t go down well. He said James was the one who was there for him, when everything was falling apart,” Tom frowned.

“He’ll find out, eventually,” Robert said.

“I wish I could protect him from that. He’s already suffering so much. But, I guess, if he doesn’t wish to see the truth, there’s nothing more I can do.”

Robert took his hand. “No there isn’t.”

*

Robert had changed into the pyjamas he’d purloined from the supermarket three days before, when Tom, who had been in the bathroom, came out, wearing far less.

Wearing nothing.

“Tom, what are you doing? What is this?” Robert asked, as the trembling figure approached the bed.

“I want you. I’m ready,” Tom said.

“Tom, I really don’t think-“

Tom crawled up the bed until his mouth was a hair breadth away from Robert’s.

“I want you,” Tom whispered. “This is my decision.”

“You sure?” Robert told himself he shouldn’t, but Tom was so close, so tantalising.

“I decide what I want to happen to my own body.”

Robert’s hesitation slipped away.

“How about you lie on your back and I’ll do all the work?” Robert asked.

Tom’s pupils dilated and he lay on his back, with his legs parted.

“Don’t…” Tom placed a palm on his cheek. “Don’t lick my neck or face.”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I want to go down on you. Would you be amenable to that?”

Tom’s breath quickened, as he nodded. Robert stared at his chest, kissing along the pale planes, before taking his partner’s nipple in his teeth and tenderly biting into the nub. Tom responded with a shudder. Grinning, Robert continued down his body, kissing down his flank, until he reached the area that was yearning for attention. Enclosing his mouth over Tom’s erection, he expected a positive response, from the man; a gasp or groan. Tom was silent. Robert thrust his head frantically up and down, using his hand to stroke in time, as his tongue worked what was usually magic, on his male partners. He lightly stroked his inner thighs, tempted to sneak a finger inside him, to press up against the sweet spot, but refrained. Tom grabbed his hand off his thigh and held it in his. Glancing up at him, Robert expected Tom to be tossing his head back, in the throes of ecstasy. Instead, though his chest raised rapidly up and down, and a light sprinkle of sweat dotted his forehead, he stared up at the ceiling, as though waiting out a doctor’s exam. Unnerved, Robert moved him further into his throat, determined to have him come so hard he cried out his name. Tom whimpered, his organ pulsing in Robert’s mouth, sending his come into his throat, which he eagerly swallowed. Licking the organ clean. He kissed the now flaccid member and crawled up Tom’s body again.

“Well, I’ll give that an eight out of ten. What would you give it?” Robert asked.

Tom pushed him back and rolled onto his front.

“You can have me like this, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Robert tenderly grasped him on his upper arms and turned him around onto his back.

“I _do_ mind,” he leaned in to kiss him. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” They locked lips once more, Robert rubbing their bodies together, both slick with sweat. “Is this ok? You need to let me know if you’re uncomfortable.”

Tom nodded, sliding his hands up and down the flesh of his back, trailing over his buttocks. He still held the odd, determined expression. This wasn’t how Robert had pictured their first time. He had imagined more moans and fractured cries of ‘Yes please, more!’ distorting his usual velvet tones, not Tom laying quiet and rigid, his muscles locked from nerves.

“We can stop if you-“ Robert said.

“I want you to come,” Tom said, eyes steeled determination.

“You’re lovely…” Robert said, kissing along his clavicle. The words came out, before he had a chance to stop them. “Damn, I love you.”

_Ooh crap. No, that wasn’t meant to-_

Tom froze beneath him, before cupping his chin. Now, a myriad of emotion poured from his pale irises. “I love you too.”

They eagerly clashed mouths, as Robert grasped his erection in hand, moaning as he reached the cusp of orgasm and flew over, his come spilling over Tom’s stomach.

“Thank you, Robert,” Tom said, as Robert fell down on top of him, panting, his head against his chest. Tom rolled over onto his side and Robert followed him, nestled up against his back, with his arm slung over his stomach.

“I just made love with _the_ Robert Downey Jr. I feel as though I want to throw a tickertape parade,” Tom said.

“Glad to be of service,” Robert said, kissing his shoulder.

Tbc…


	9. Sebastian

Wrapping his dressing gown tighter around himself, Sebastian padded down the hall, nourishing warmth seeping into his morning-cold cells. Chris had stoked the fire again and now reclined on the armchair opposite, a line marring his forehead. As Sebastian stepped into the room, his partner’s handsome features glowed with a loving smile.

“Hey there, beautiful man,” Chris said.

Sebastian came over, sat astride him and lowered onto his legs, the crackling woodfire stove warming his back. Chris’s lips and tongue provided a more scorching heat.

“What are you doing out here?” Sebastian asked.

“Just thinking…” The line in Chris’s forehead deepened. “We keep trying so hard to make this a functioning society… Why? I understand it’s a human need, to want to come together. But society is no more. The normal rules don’t need to apply.”

“What are you saying? You don’t want to be here anymore?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m saying I’m not sure why we came here, to begin with. We all had a dream about the little girl, Ruby. And now that we’re here, we never see her. I don’t understand the point of all this, what this is building towards. This man from Los Angeles, who Jeremy said told him where we were. We don’t even know if he’s real.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to be. We don’t have to go there…”

As Chris’s fingers explored the fabric of the dressing gown covering Sebastian’s thigh, Sebastian sighed. He would have preferred to have awoken to Chris in the bed with him, so they could have made love for the second time, that morning, over pondering the relevance of their current society.

“I keep going through what Ruby said to us,” Chris said, his fingers moving up to trail through Sebastian’s hair.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Sebastian said.

When they arrived in town, both had gone into the library in the main town hall together, to visit the little girl, intrigued to meet the one who was the centre of all of their dreams. After smiling and introducing herself, she had given them a simple message.

_“What you two have gone through… the horrors you both had to commit. I forgive you. Yes, blood was shed. And more will be shed before there will be true peace. But you both did what you had to, to protect others. You must always remember.”_

“I…” Chris swallowed. “I should feel guilty about what I did. Jeremy was a friend of mine. But… I don’t. Knowing what he had planned to do with you, seeing Tom running naked out of the room...raped. I know you feel guilt and remorse for killing the gunman in the hospital … Maybe there is something wrong with me. I should feel terrible guilt. I’m glad he’s dead. I would do it again, to anyone who tried to hurt you, or any of the others.”

“Maybe it’s better to be that way. To not be haunted by what you did," Sebastian said, covering the hand on his thigh with his own.

“You’re a better person than me,” Chris said. “Feeling terrible for killing someone, even if it was in self-defence.”

_Oh Chris, you lovely, adorable man._

Sebastian cupped his face in his palms.

“We’re here. We’re alive. We’re together.”

“For how long?”

Chris was echoing Sebastian’s own anxiety, whenever his mind returned to Ruby’s prediction, which it was wont to do often. Ignoring the fresh surge of neurotransmitters plaguing his already overexerted brain, Sebastian brushed their lips together, his hand reaching down into Chris’s trousers, taking no effort to bring him to attention.

*

“Hello there,” Robert stepped into the foyer, a frantic energy displaying in his jerky movements. “Toasty in here. Great.” He took off his coat and scarf and threw the items on the coatrack by the front door. “Have you guys been outside? Elsa's really gone crazy with the ice powers, this morning.”

Sebastian, who had wandered into the loungeroom with a piece of toast in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, took a moment to observe Robert’s hyper vivacity. Robert had a manic quality to him anyway, which Sebastian could, at times, find grating. That day, despite satisfying lovemaking on the armchair by the fire, he wasn’t in the mood for an elevated Robert.

“I haven’t been this cold in a while-“ Robert said.

“Hello to you too,” Chris took a sip of his own steaming mug, before grinning at Sebastian and patted the space next to him on the couch. “You’re full of energy this morning.”

Sebastian sat next to him, placing his plate in his lap and the coffee mug on the ground.

“Where’s Tom?” Chris asked, as Robert sat in the armchair opposite, closer to the fire.

Upon seeing where Robert chose to sit, Sebastian was glad after he’d mounted Chris, and rode him to blissful orgasm, they’d changed the cover of the cushion. However, he still detected the scent of their intimacy. If Robert had an inkling of what they had been doing on the very chair in which he sat, an hour before, he gave no sign. There was a good chance he didn’t know. Sebastian was certain that Robert would be impelled to comment, if he did.

“Where else? Going to visit Benedict.” Robert’s face fell, the movement a subtle loosening of muscles.

“What’s wrong, Robert?” Chris asked.

Robert sighed, ran his broad fingers through his hair. “I’m going to have to break up with Tom.”

“Why? Did you two have a fight? Did Tom do something?” Chris asked.

“No, he’s as sweet and lovely as ever…”

Sebastian continued eating his toast. As much as he was fond of Tom, he was often the focus of their conversations, when it came to Robert.

“Then what’s wrong?” Chris asked.

“I…er…I told him I loved him last night. It just came out!”

Sebastian swallowed the toast he was consuming and picked up the coffee mug from the floor, taking a swig. Robert was, as ever, a conundrum. Wasn’t that the norm, when it came to relationships? That steady build up to the three words?

_We don’t say it enough. We need to say it more._

“Robert…” Chris placed his mug down on the ground and touched his forearm. “It doesn’t mean you loved Susan, loved your family, any less. The grief is still there for all of us. Even though Seb and me are together, we still grieve for what we have lost.”

Sebastian resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead. Robert’s reaction to his revelation to Tom made sense. He understood guilt. Though he didn’t question his and Chris’s relationship, his heart still yearned for his family, his close friends. His brain had a strong need to torture him, to reinact the final moments of friends and family. Robert had warned them against going into the hospital. Why didn’t he listen? Why did he have to always be so stubborn? He could have stayed, given both him and Chris the chance to see their families one last time.

Yes, Sebastian very much understood guilt.

“It’s okay to find love again, despite losing the love of your life. It doesn’t mean you’re still not grieving them. She would want you to be happy,” Chris said.

Robert’s face crinkled. “I miss them so much! The pain… it’s like being stabbed.”

“I know…” Chris said.

Robert sobbed, tears spurting down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

“I loved them so much. So much.”

“You still do,” Chris pointed out. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t love Tom also. It doesn’t diminish your love for them.”

As Robert wiped his face, Sebastian gazed at Chris, both warmed and awed by his kind and wise words. Chris held an intelligence that was not as obvious as the more scholarly Tom and Benedict, or the worldly Robert. There was a depth to his blue-eyed man, a deep understanding of life.  However, Chris was not bitter, from this understanding, instead using it to try create a better world, for himself and those around him. In moments as these; Chris mentoring the ironic older Robert about his relationship, Sebastian’s love for Chris solidified even greater.

“He’s good for you. And you’re good for him. It’s up to you. But I wouldn’t give up on your relationship, yet,” Chris said.

Characteristic mirth crept into Robert's dark irises.

“When did you become a counsellor?”

“I’ve been around a while. Seen things,” Chris shrugged.

“Well, you’re very good. Sebastian clearly thinks so.”

Sebastian was aware of his wide toothy smile, but couldn’t bring himself to drop his lips.

_He really is a real-life Steve Rogers. The fact he doesn’t understand that makes him even more amazing._

*

Long after Robert left, Chris stood over the battery-operated fry pan, frying bacon for lunch, as Sebastian came up behind him and kissed down his neck.

“I love you, Chris,” he whispered in his ear.

“Love you too,” Chris replied.

“We don’t say it enough. We need to say it more. Life is short. Too short.”

His mind went to Ruby’s warning about bloodshed to come.

No, he couldn’t go there, couldn’t entertain the notion of more bloodshed, after such pain and cruelty around them. Life couldn’t be that cruel. He refused to believe it.

*

Sebastian was surprised how quickly people adapted to new circumstances. They had been living in Montgomery for three months and, in that time, the awe and worship of them as celebrities had died down. As Scarlett had opined, once the others became familiar with them, they became part of the group. Just another familiar face on the street.

The picnic blanket on which they sat was laden with a feast of various sandwiches, biscuits, fruits, salad and cakes. Montgomery was unseasonably warm, for that time of year and thus Sebastian, Chris, Anthony, Scarlett, Tom and Robert took advantage. Three other groups of sun lovers also had the same idea and had their picnic blankets out closer to the sun dappled lake. The ex-actors had positioned theirs under the vast shade of the long branches of  a magnificent oak tree, further back.

“So, I saw James Spader today…” Anthony said, pouring wine into a plastic cup. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How we never see him? Anyway, he’s walking down the road and I say hello. He says hello back.” He gulped  the wine, picked up the cake slice from his plate and took a bite.

“That’s it?” Scarlett asked. “Great story, Anthony.”

Anthony swallowed and continued.

“No, there’s more. I tell him Boston Legal was the shit. He tells me thank you… There’s something off about that guy. Sorry, Robert. He’s your friend. But, I’ve got to be honest, the guy gives me chills.”

Tom, sitting opposite, had listened to Anthony with characteristic intensity, ignoring Robert beside him, who was initially more interested in examining his partner; stroking his arm, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, lifting and dropping his light curls. As the story progressed, Robert’s attention changed to Anthony.

“He’s not my friend,” Robert said, pink colouring his cheeks.

To Sebastian, it was clear that, after eating, Robert had become bored of the conversation and hence focused on Tom. He had to admit the humour of Tom attempting to keep up with their conversation about the previous American government, when Robert kept trying to distract him with constant touches. Most other humans would have grabbed Robert’s wandering hands and pushed them off,  advising him to quit. Tom put up with it, being either too nice, or too not bothered, to stop him. He tried, at a few junctions, to involve his partner in the conversation. Robert had said a few words to the contrary and resumed his stroking and kissing of Tom’s hair.

With Anthony’s reveal, Robert’s clear playful mood dispersed. His hands now went to his lap. In response, Tom placed his own hand on his knee and other arm around his waist.

“Oh, I always thought you…” Anthony said.

“I’m an actor. I’m brilliant at pretending, don’t you know? Not any more. Me and James are not friends,” Robert said, shifting to lean even closer to Tom. It occurred to Sebastian that Robert was moving closer to his partner not out of his usual fondness but due to the need for reassurance. He glanced at Chris, who bore a similar expression of concern.

“You’re right, Anthony,” Robert said. “James is not a nice man. I would suggest you all stay away from him.”

“I always felt a bad vibe from him,” Scarlett admitted.

“I’ve seen him with Benedict a fair amount,” Chris said. “I hear they came to Montgomery together, after the plague hit.”

“It’s true,” Tom said, rubbing his hand up and down Robert’s thigh. “James found him coming out of New York. They travelled together. Benedict says, now I’ve moved in with Robert, James is considering moving in with him.”

“You never told me this?” Robert said, aggrieved expression pouting his lips.

“I only found out this morning, when I saw Benedict for breakfast,” Tom frowned. “Benedict has been so low, of late. So agitated. He was with James for months. Who knows the lies James poisoned his mind with…”

“I don’t know Benedict very well, but he seems a good guy,” Anthony said.

“He is the best,” Tom said.

“ _I’m_ the best,” Robert protest.

“I want to talk to Benedict, to persuade him not to move in with James,” Tom said. “I have an instinct if that happens, it will not bode well.”

 “Do you guys ever think, we’re headed on a path towards something tragic? We think we’re safe here, in Montgomery. But, we told you all what Ruby told me and Sebastian.” A fine tremor went through Chris’s hand, which rested on the small of Sebastian’s back.

The group fell into silence, Chris’s worry echoed in their disturbed expressions. Except for Anthony, whose eyes flashed with righteous anger.

“This is ridiculous, Chris,” Anthony said. “We control our fate. Look, Ruby is great, on account of getting us all here. But I’m not going to allow some crazy prophecy to determine my future! We can change it right now. Tom, I’ll come with you to see Benedict.”

_Anthony’s right. We have complete control over our destinies._

“I will too,” Sebastian said.

“Count me in,” Chris’s hand was now firm on Sebastian’s lower back.

*

“Tom!” Benedict was wiping his hands with a tea towel, as he opened the door. “I just finished doing the dishes. “Oh, you’ve brought a posse with you.”

“I’m getting the band back together,” Tom said, as he stepped into the lounge room. Chris and Sebastian followed, with Anthony at the rear.

“Come, sit down all of you. Tea? Biscuits? I’ll put the kettle on,” Benedict said.

Sebastian looked around the fastidiously clean lounge room. The wormwood dresser against the wall leading to the kitchen was shiny with polish but was bare of any trinkets or memorabilia, both in the glass cabinet or on the surface. The lounge set stretched around the left and right corners of the room, facing a space in the centre, where, on top of the varnished floorboards sat a Persian rug. As with the other houses, the television and DVD players held an air of abandonment.

As Benedict fussed around in the kitchen, Sebastian sat next to Anthony and Chris. Despite the tidiness, there was a distinct lack of personalisation, in the set up of the room. His eyes kept wandering back to the empty cabinet. Even in the months him and Chris had settled on the town, they’d filled their quarters with trinkets and personal items, to mark their house as their own. The day before, Chris had brought home a handstitched Captain America doll, which now sat in premium position on their bannister, where it was the first thing people saw, as they came into the house.

Benedict returned from the kitchen with a silver tray bearing the kettle, four mugs with teabags, a carafe of milk and a bowl of sugar.

“Just have teabags at the moment, sorry.”

Tom and Sebastian refused the tea, so Benedict placed the tray on one of the empty lounge chairs and plodded himself besides Tom.

“What do I owe the pleasure?” Benedict asked, as Anthony and Chris fussed around with the mugs, sugar and milk before them.

“I was hoping…” Tom smiled. “Well, it’s an offer. Would you like to move in with me and Robert? You could come here or we could come there.”

“You brought three people as back up?” Benedict smirked. “Thanks Tom, but I already have an offer, from James.”

Tom’s pale eyes flicked to Chris, who gave a subtle nod.

“Benedict…James is not who you think he is.”

“Who is he, then? Robert Duvall?” An irritated edge was now obvious, in Benedict’s tone.

“Come on, man, you must have noticed how much of a creep the guy is?” Anthony’s tone was pure incredulity.

“Is this why you have all come over?” Benedict asked. “To try turn me against a friend of mine? This is low, Tom. I admit, I’m pretty disappointed in you.”

“James is… he’s committed atrocities in the past. Him and Jeremy were very close. That should tell you everything!” Tom said.

“What atrocities would this be?”

“I can’t say,” Tom looked down to the floor, his cheeks dusty pink.

_Atrocities?_

Sebastian recalled Robert’s strong exclamation of dislike towards James, Tom’s protective body language.

_He did something to Robert. Something terrible._

Sebastian groped for his partner's hand and held it.

“We came here because we’re worried about you!” Chris said. “You’re not yourself. We should have visited more often. That’s on us. We want to help you.”

Benedict stood, his body radiating anger.

“You want to help by trying to take away the one person who was there for me, from the beginning of this horrendous plague? The man who literally lifted me up from the ground I was sitting on and made me walk, and keep walking, who time and time again took me out of my utter despair?” Benedict ran his long fingers through his short curls. “I didn’t want to say this, Tom, but when I was told you were alive, I was so… the relief I felt.”

“Me too,” Tom said, standing to meet him.

“But you’ve disappointed me. I have to admit it. I understand you’ve gone through such unimaginable suffering. But I needed you. And you preferred the company of Robert-“

“I’m sorry!” Tom said, his eyes bright with tears. “This is why I am here, to make amends-“

“He’s a narcissist, Tom! Why can’t you see this?” Benedict flung his arms out, as he swirled to face the others still seated on the couches. “Why can’t any of you see it? Robert can’t help it. This is his personality. He can’t change. It is only ever going to be about him.”

“No, you’re wrong. That’s not true,” Tom said. “James is feeding you misinformation.”

The rage deflated from Benedict’s lean frame and he curled in on himself, eyes glittering with vulnerable unspoken emotion.

“I love you, Tom. You’re a dear friend. But I can’t move in with you and Robert. I’m sorry,” Benedict said. “I think you had all better go.”

“I didn’t get to drink any of the tea!” Anthony remarked, as they piled out the house.

 “You tried,” Chris said, touching Tom’s arm.

“Does this mean we’re still on some fated track?” Anthony’s tone was only half mirth. “I make my own fate.”

*

Three days later, Anthony popped by for a surprise visit to Sebastian and Chris’s house, insistent that they come with him to the next council meeting.

“Hearing Benedict speak about James got me thinking,” Anthony said. “Robert knows more than he’s saying. If we all get a bad vibe from James, others would too. They’d have to.”

Sebastian’s intrigue increased, when they arrived at Rene’s house the following Monday, where the meetings took place, to the members piling out of the front door. A few cast curious glances as they passed. Two nodded at Anthony.

“I thought the idea was to go to the meeting?” Chris asked.

James walked out of the front door, and didn’t look in their direction as he passed, his expression blank. Chadwick and Hayley stepped out after him.

“You wanted to see us?”

Anthony nodded and all three stepped into the house behind him. In the modern-style lounge, Rene was picking up coffee cups.

“Hello beautiful!” Anthony said.

Rene shot him a faux stern glance and came over to hug Sebastian and Chris.

“So, what happened?” Anthony asked. “What did you talk about?”

“Do you mean did we discuss James?” Chadwick asked.

Sebastian and Chris both shot Anthony identical curious glances.

“I spoke to Rene, Hayley and Chadwick throughout the week,” Anthony explained. “Told them my concern about James.”

“We have similar concerns,” Chadwick said. “It wasn’t until Anthony brought up his worries about James that we spoke to the rest of the councillors. It turns out, you were right. There has been a concerted effort to intimidate and harass certain councillors, to manipulate them to James’ agenda. We met up before the meeting tonight and have decided to oust him…. There is a new position available, if you want to put your name in, Anthony.”

“He wouldn’t have taken that well,” Chris frowned.

“He didn’t,” Hayley said.

“What agenda is this?” Chris asked.

All three council members glanced at each other.

“To remove Ruby as the head of our community and start his own form of government,” Rene said. “Here, she has complete veto over everything we do, if she wishes. So far, she hasn’t wanted this. Of course, James didn’t need to manipulate all the other council members. More than a few were more than happy to go by his agenda. They refuse to see her as anything more special than a little girl.”

Sebastian had considered this idea. James was not necessarily wrong. The dreams had been an aberrant part of what was otherwise normal settling into the town. Though Ruby had abilities, such as deep insight into others beyond her years, he couldn’t say she was the spiritual guru they were painting her as. It was ridiculous.

_But this isn’t about her. Not really. It’s about James. Robert doesn’t like him, it’s clear. And nor does Tom. Something is wrong but we can’t figure out what._

“His ideas have always been…the one about clearing the houses was a great one. But there have been others,” Rene continued. “Arming key citizens. Instituting law and order. Again, not terrible ideas…”

“It’s more the people we’ve been seeing him talk to,” Hayley said. “Just the other day, Chester Willington told me we should reinstitute capital punishment. I told him there hasn’t been any crime here, so far. He told me we were a bunch of sissys who didn’t want to commit to action. Went on a rant about feminized coddled society.”

“The worse one was Jane Partridge and her partner,” Chadwick said. “She’s said some things to me, to the effect that she’s angry they placed a nigger on the council. I saw her hugging James the day before. _Hugging_ him.”

Sebastian, Chris and Tom all produced loud gasps of angered shock. Anthony shook his head.

“I am so terribly sorry that happened to you, Chadwick,” Tom said. “That kind of racism had no place in our old society and certainly has no place in this one.”

Sebastian interpreted all Chadwick had to say about Tom’s words in his resigned shrug.

“There is no direct way to tie James to anything, of course,” Rene said. “Regardless, we voted, and by consensus vote, James is out.”

*

Sebastian picked up the can of stewed fruits and placed them in the trolley. Being sick of eating from cans, he hoped they would work out the electricity grid soon. Chris was out with Scarlett at the power plant, and, in his absence, Sebastian decided to cook him a hearty dinner, with desert. He wasn’t amazing at trifle, but with their new cooler, he would try.

“You’re wrong,” the voice sounded behind him.

Startled, Sebastian spun around, to James standing in the centre of the aisle.

“It’s a shame you’ve placed all of your beliefs onto the wrong person.”

“What are you-?”

“Robert manipulated you all. Manipulated Anthony to kick me out of the council. No matter. I have my own plans.”

A chill cascaded down Sebastian’s spine.

“Plans?”

“Robert is lying to you all. Ask him about the homeless man.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just ask him.”

James walked away.

“James?” Sebastian abandoned the trolley and ran after him but James was too fast, taking to a sprint and disappearing around the corner, away from the front doors of the supermarket.

*

One of Robert’s hands was clasped so tight in Tom’s his knuckles were white. The other wiped the tears from his own damp cheeks.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Robert had told the story in halting fashion, stopping every so often to slow down his panting breath. Despite what he had done, Sebastian was not shocked, could not even dredge up anger for Robert’s crime. So, Robert had caused the death of another. But then, so had him and Chris. They had committed deliberate murders. Robert’s was, at least, an accident.

_So much death and destruction already. When will it end? Is there some penance we have to pay? Is this why we’ve been kept alive?_

“Later, in pre-production for Age of Ultron, James blackmailed me, threatened to go public. I knew it would end my career. After everything I’d accomplished. The sacrifices I’d made. I didn’t want Susan to know… I couldn’t… I agreed to spend the night with him. And it was terrible. The worst experience of my life… at the time.”

The others seated in the lounge room around him, were silent, introspective. For the first time ever, Anthony didn’t say a word. Scarlett’s face was damp with tears.

“Robert, I’ve killed. Deliberately,” Sebastian said.

“That was different. That was self-defence,” Robert said.

“Mine wasn’t,” Chris said. “I understand this is causing you great guilt. But we’re in a new world, now. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“I’ve carried this guilt for so long,” Robert admitted. “I don’t know how to let it go.”

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, understanding Robert’s anguish.

*

Sebastian stepped into the study, where, this time Ruby sat on the floor, in the centre, building a Batman Lego set. Did she live in this room? Sitting all day, in the claustrophobic book laden walls, waiting for more guests to arrive?

He recalled he first day he had stepped inside, the fine knot in his stomach, the nausea clenching his throat. She was not what he had expected. A little girl. No more, no less. He wasn’t sure what else he wanted, for her to show great powers? To heal their minor injuries, from their days travelling? Ridiculous notions.

“There is a man who no longer wants you as our leader,” Sebastian said.

Ruby giggled. “But I’m not. I never was.”

“Then what are you-?” Sebastian clenched his fists. “What the hell are we doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Ruby asked.

“We came here because you were in our dreams!”

“You did. And I turned out to be real,” Ruby sighed. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop the events in motion. What is meant to happen, will happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian’s frustration sounded in his tone.

_No, I don’t want to talk about fate or destiny or any of that!_

“You know about the man in Los Angeles. But you will. Very soon. All of these events, they must happen. Balance must be restored.”

“Balance…?” Sebastian took a deep breath. “What events?”

“I can’t say,” she reached and grabbed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, you are always sorry, aren’t you?” Sebastian snatched his hand away.

*

Sebastian closed the door behind himself, and Chris ceased with his pacing.

“Nothing,” Sebastian shook his head. “The usual vague answers. I wished we knew what we were meant to be doing here!”

Chris’s hand was so delicate on his chin, his lips soft in his mouth.

“We’re together. That’s all I could ask for.”

Sebastian moaned, pulling him closer, his stomach coiling tight, as a fearful boding of a great horror to come gripped him.

_What ever happens, please don’t take my Chris._

Tbc…


	10. Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is possibly my darkest chapter yet.  
> Warning for extreme gun violence and character death.

“So, strawberries with chocolate for desert. What do you think?” Robert asked, placing a bowl of strawberries, plus a small jug of melted chocolate, on the table between them.

“Sumptuous as usual,” Tom said.

It had been Robert’s turn to cook that night and he was a far better chef than Tom. The meal was burgers, consisting of homemade beef patties that had been fried on their fire, with red wine as a palate cleanser. The beef had been the exquisite amount of succulent. Tom took a strawberry, swirled it in chocolate, and, concluding that a person far more appetising sat before him, pulled back his chair and clambered across, to lower himself onto Robert’s lap, grinning, as he fed a strawberry into his mouth. Robert ran his hands through his hair and moved his head up, so their tongues clashed. Robert’s mouth tasted of the delicious combined sweet and sour of the chocolate/strawberry concoction.

“Bedroom?” Robert asked, panting.

Tom nodded. Though he told himself their lovemaking was spontaneous, the truth was, in the majority of instances, he precipitated their intimacy, and was also the one to turn Robert down, when the other man was frisky, but he was in a vulnerable state. Though Robert never complained, it never stopped the guilt from squeezing his insides. He loved Robert and wanted to make him happy. Furthermore, Robert was smart, sexy, incredible, loving, attentive… everything he needed. When he was in a delicate mood, and Robert was attempting comfort of a physical kind, he couldn’t convince his traumatised being that it would be positive and healthy, to work through his stark emotions, using passion.

Once inside the room, they took their time divesting each other of clothes, before Tom lay on the bed and Robert slid down his body, to take him in his mouth. Tom closed his eyes, telling himself to let go and experience the pleasure of his partner wanting to please him. He had tried reciprocation only once, a week before. As soon as he took Robert into his mouth and began imitating the procedure his partner used so well on himself, he experienced a flashback so severe, it took twenty minutes to calm his hyperventilation.

_One day you will be able to do it all with Robert and not be traumatised._

Robert pulled up, grinned and reached over for the lube, on the bedside table.

“Want me to top you?” Robert asked, spilling the lube over his fingers. “I am in the mood to ride you like an enraged bull.”

They had tried Robert bottoming four times. The first time, Tom was so stiff and uncomfortable, they abandoned the attempt half way through. The second and third times were better. Tom was calmer but couldn’t get out of his own mind, couldn’t escape his fear he would harm Robert or flashback. The fourth time was better still. He enjoyed his partner enjoying himself, groaning and whimpering, as he thrust his body up and down, allowing Tom to experience his tight heat. However, his own orgasm, as with the other times, was too conjoined with his troubled emotions to be termed a success.

“Make love to me,” Tom said, opening his legs.

“Are you sure?” Robert’s mouth was a thin line.

“Yes, I want you.”

“Okay,” Robert kissed his lips. “We take it slow. If you’re in any way uncomfortable, you tell me, okay?”

As Robert devoured his mouth with his tongue, gently prodding him with his slick finger, Tom told himself it was time. They had now been together three months and he trusted Robert. This man would never hurt him.

Though Robert did take his time, in preparing him, sliding first one, then two then three fingers into him, before scizzoring, his muscles were still locked, his chest heaving. The fingers didn’t hurt, but they were uncomfortable. Even when Robert pressed up against his prostate, which caused an odd mixture of pleasure and discomfort, he couldn’t react the way he knew Robert wanted him to. In the rapes, despite the tearing pain, every so often, Jeremy would press against the nub, and a jolt of shameful pleasure would rush through Tom. He had never told Robert this humiliating aspect of his own sexual assault, not wishing to consider it, himself.

No, he told himself. This wasn’t about Jeremy. This was about him and Robert. Jeremy wasn’t a part of them.

“I’m ready,” he said, steeling himself.

“You alright?” Robert asked, brushing his hair off his face. Tom nodded. “You want to go on top?”

“No, like this,” Tom said, wrapping his legs around Robert’s waist, glad the anxiety quivering his insides wasn’t apparent in his outer muscles. “I’m ready.”

Robert took his mouth in a kiss, once more, as he slicked himself and entered him. Tom jolted, gritting his teeth. There was no pain, only pressure.

_Oh god…Oh I don’t know if I can…I don’t know if I can do this…_

‘You tell me if you want me to stop,” Robert murmured, kissing along his jaw.

“Keep going,” Tom whispered.

Robert moved at a glacial rate inside him, stopping each millimetre, to verbally assert that he was comfortable. This was what being with a man was meant to be like, he told himself. Not that he ever considered this notion. Though he was with a man now, he couldn’t call himself gay or even bisexual. His interest had always been solely women. Until Robert. Robertsexual, such a ridiculous term.

“Is it trite to say how sexy and amazing you are?” Robert bottomed out, and lay on him, not moving, kissing his lips, chin and neck. There was still no pain, merely a fullness. Not exactly causing pain but not causing fireworks in his body, either.

_He’s waiting for you to tell him whether to pull out or keep going._

“I’m ready,” Tom said.

Robert thrusted, in slow motions, inside him. He gripped his hip, telling himself this was good, this felt good. Yes, this lovemaking. Robert moved faster and Tom’s breathing exerted. He glanced at the bedside battery-operated clock radio, on the bedside drawer to his left.

_It’s okay. Doesn’t hurt. No flashbacks, so far. No need for anxiety. Focus on him. Your Robert. You love him._

Robert moaned, sighed, kissed his neck, his face, his chest, bit his nipple, as he stroked his erection. Tom found he couldn’t reciprocate, could only lie stiff, his hands and legs around his partner’s back, his mind inundated with concerns and whirling thoughts and emotions, that overpowered any pleasure.

_Yes, this is good, this is. You’re not going to have a flashback it’s fine. Try and relax, try work through your breathing._

“Oh Tom…” Robert sighed, thrusting harder.

Tom glanced at the time. Eight minutes had passed, since Robert had first entered him. Robert groaned.

“Don’t come….Not yet.” He ordered.

Robert ceased moving, his breath hot against Tom’s face.

“If you wish, my English cupcake,” Robert giggled.

The whole concept was ridiculous. He wasn’t sure why he wanted this. But he wanted Robert to last more than twelve minutes. He couldn’t even tell Robert this, in the knowledge of how insane it would sound. But, if Robert lasted longer than his rapist, it would be an absurd win for them both.

“My lovely, scrumptious. I could eat you. Become a cannibal…” Robert murmured.

“Mmm…” Tom was too pent up to answer with any wit.

Robert thrusted again, kissing his neck, running his hands up and down his flank, jerking his erection. There was power in the control he had over Robert’s actions and desires. He turned his head and glanced at the clock radio again. Eleven minutes.

_Why are you comparing the man you love with your rapist? Perhaps this is proof you are more psychologically damaged than previously asserted._

Robert stopped moving.

“Tom…” He grasped his chin, to turn it to face him. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s good.”

“You have the expression of a man having a root canal!”

“I want you to come,” Tom insisted.

Robert cupped his chin in his hands. “I love you, okay?” He kissed his forehead. “You’re so damned smart.” He kissed his cheeks. “You’re sweet.” He kissed his chin. “You’re caring.” He kissed his nose. “You’re incredibly beautiful.” He kissed his lips. “But most of all, you’re mine.”

They clanged tongues together, and Robert thrust faster, before sliding his lips down to kiss Tom’s neck. Robert moaned and Tom gasped, as sharp pain issued from the flesh just above his adam's apple, and warmth spilled inside him. Robert collapsed down onto him, kissing his chest, before sliding out, slipping down his body and taking Tom in his mouth. Though he wouldn’t believe it would be possible, within less than a minute, he cried out his orgasm. Robert kissed his inner thighs, then sat up and wiped his lips. Tom frowned, prodding his neck where Robert had bitten him, in orgasm.

“Oh no, I gave you a love bite. I’m so sorry,” Robert smiled and soothed the area with kisses, before laying his head on Tom’s chest.

“Thank you, Robert,” Tom said.

It hadn’t been the best first time for Robert topping. He had been stiff, uncomfortable, too far into his head to enjoy himself. But, it was a start.

*

“There are less people here,” Tom said, peering around the gymnasium. He had noticed in the past two weeks, that the crowd was thinning, when it came to their weekly town meeting.

“I’ve noticed too,” Sebastian, standing opposite, frowned.

“Don’t care, more food for us,” Robert loped one hand around Tom’s waist, as he stuffed more pastry into his mouth.

“You’re incorrigible,” Tom said, grinning.

“Incorrigible? Five syllables. My Tom is too smart. Puts me to shame,” he grinned at Chris and Sebastian, and nuzzled Tom’s neck.

Tom grinned back. He couldn’t help but grin a lot, of late. The tension that had been gripping his fractured being was replaced by tenderness. Despite the horror of their new world, he had good friends, he was in love with a magnificent partner and, though he still suffered the occasional flashback or anxiety over his rapes, he was tracking well, in terms of his mental health. Chris smiled back at him and Anthony rolled his eyes.

“People, people!” Chadwick could always freeze a room, with his commanding voice. “Before we start-“

“We don’t think so!” A chubby man stepped into the gymnasium. Tom searched his mind for the name. Chester. “We don’t like your way of doing things. Your pathetic little council.”

Jeers rang out from behind him and six more people stepped in. At the back were James and Benedict. Benedict kept his head low and twitched his hands on his pants.

“People, this is a lie!” Chester said. “Why are we listening to this council? What do they know? Three of them were celebrities to begin with! Scum sucking leftie pigs, who don’t know a real American if they were fucked up the ass by one.”

Beside Tom, Robert stiffened, gripping his hip harder.

“They have their head so far up their ass they’re sucking their own intestine!”

“What do you want, Chester?” Chadwick said, as Rene, Anthony and Hayley came over to stand beside him, as well as the other six council members.

“We’re saying we don’t like the way you council members are running things. They are operating under the guise of that a little girl is our leader. A little girl of all things! We all know the real truth.”

“And what would that be? Please entertain us with your brilliance,” Anthony made clear his sarcasm.

Another woman stepped forward. Jill, Tom remembered. Benedict took a step back. A vulpine smile creased James’ lips.

“We know who the true leader is. And he isn’t here. Why do we worship a fake god, when there is a true leader in Los Angeles?”

“If you want to go to him then go! Please let the door smack your ass on the way out,” Anthony said.

Tom now glared at Benedict. What was he doing with this absurd group?

“He has shown us the way,” Chester said. “And it is not the path of the little girl. Those who join us now will be rewarded.”

Robert burst out laughing. “What? A free holiday to Australia?”

Chester gritted his teeth.

“You should leave,” Chadwick said. “Your presence is not wanted here.”

The group of interlopers studiously looked around the room, before leaving.

“What was that about?” Chris asked.

Tom shook his head, disappointment clenching his heart, at Benedict’s involvement with the group of interlopers.

*

Benedict confronted him two days later. He was with Rene, walking through the local park, when the fellow Englishman came towards him, on the leaf strewn path.

“Can I talk to you?” His face had a distinct ashen, sweaty tone. “Please?”

“I’ll meet you at my house. Remember, you promised to taste my squashed pavlova,” Rene said.

Tom grinned. “Of course!”

Both watched Rene walk away, the sun sparkling in her long red hair, before Benedict turned to Tom.

“I need you to do something for me. I need you to join James and I.”

Tom had not seen much of Benedict in the past month, since the argument in which he had accused Robert of being narcissistic. He had yearned for his friend, in this time, as though a part of himself had been torn away. But the prideful side of himself kept him at bay.

“Why?” Tom asked.

“Please! Just… please Tom. I need you to join our group.”

“What happened to you? Why are you with them?”

“Please…” To his shock, tears welled in Benedict’s glittering eyes.

“Are you in trouble? What did they do to you? Benedict, you’re my good friend and I-“ He reached out but Benedict snatched his hand back.

“I’m sorry,” he turned and fled. Watching his figure grow smaller into the distance back towards the houses, Tom was tempted to run after him but refrained.

*

The next day, when he visited Benedict’s house, to apologise for what had occurred the day before, the curtains were closed. No one answered the front door.

He didn’t see Benedict for the rest of the week, though he went every day after, to knock.

*

“I’m still thinking Florida,” Robert said, gripping Tom’s waist and swaying in time to music he’d evidentially come up with in his head.

“Hm…” Tom reached to his side to grab a cream puff off the table and placed it in Robert’s mouth. “You just want to try operate a ship.”

“Anything wrong with that?” Robert asked, after swallowing.  He leaned forward and kissed Tom’s lips. “Don’t you want to go to Australia, try and find Hemsworth?”

“Do you believe we can locate him?” Tom mocked wide-eyed innocence.

“You’re learning my sarcasm. I concur. Now, if I can learn your wit, charm, beauty-“

“Of which you have all three-“

“Everyone!” Chadwick’s voice rose above the crowd. “If I could have your attention for five minutes. Thankyou-“

Anthony, who had been laughing with Sebastian, Chris and Scarlett in the corner, came over to stand beside him. Hayley and Rene followed.

“So, we have a few things on the agenda-“ Chadwick  began.

Shrill screams, coming in from outside the open doorway, interrupted his speech.

Tom and Robert caught eyes. Robert’s face was drained of colour, terror sparking in the dark irises.

‘Who’s screaming?” Tom asked, stomach sparking with fear.

_Someone could be being murdered and you are going to stand there?_

More screaming, followed by pounding footsteps. Three people to Tom’s left ran towards the back exit.

“What’s going on?” Robert asked, grabbing Tom’s upper arm and yanking him towards him, in protective fashion.

The double doors flew open and a group of people walked in, dressed in identical red hooded robes. Held in the arms of the man in front, was the sobbing Ruby.

“Oh my god…” Robert took a step forward and back and forward again, as though unsure whether to stay with Tom or rush the group.

Tom scanned the faces of the red robed figures. Stone faced James held the little girl. The similarly robed pale-faced Benedict stood further to the back. All of the figures carried shotguns.

“We will show you your god is just a little girl!” James said.

_No, what is happening? Benedict?_

“No! No don’t!” More people shouted, ran forward.

The members to the front of the group withdrew their weapons and aimed. Blood seeped the shirts of those running and they fell down and were still.

_Oh my god! Are they-? This can’t be real. This can’t be real. Thiscan’tbereal._

James grabbed Ruby’s neck and twisted hard. There was a sharp snapping sound and she fell to the floor, her eyes glassy.

Pandemonium broke out. Some of the crowd ran to the back, some to the front, towards the red robed men and women. The red robed men and women started firing on the crowd. Though Tom’s eyes widened, his brain refused to acknowledge the bloody carnage before him. As with his reaction to Jeremy’s assaults, his mind and body froze. Though his heart pounded, his mouth filled with saliva, and adrenaline coursed through himself, his muscles wanted to flee but couldn’t, were trapped in position.

“Tom! Tom! We need to leave!” Robert shouted.

Tom glanced to the side, to see Chris and Sebastian running, hand in hand, away from the shooters. Chadwick rushed over to cover Hayley and was shot in the upper spine and fell down.

“We need to go!” Robert tugged at his arm. Tom still stood, unmoving, trying to make sense of what was happening before him.

Scarlett lay face down in a puddle of blood.

Two plus two did not equal five but he was being told to believe it.

Anthony lay on the ground a few metres away to his left, his chest a bloodied mess.

“Damn it Tom!” Robert lifted his arm over his shoulders and dragged him through the room, to the back exit.

More gun shots, screams, the smell of blood.

Robert screamed, his arms tearing away from Tom, who spun around to the side, to view James pulling Robert up against his body.

“No!” His legs carried him forward, towards James and Robert, entire being dedicated to getting to his beloved, saving his beloved.

“Tom no! Don’t come-“ Robert began.

“You were always a pain in my ass,” James took a knife out and placed it on Robert’s throat.

Unmindful of the carnage around him, Tom continued running, hearing shouts, screaming and realising it was coming from his own mouth.

“No please don’t!” _No, not him! Anyone but him, please!_

“Alright, the boyfriend goes first,” James took the knife off Robert’s throat and aimed his shotgun at Tom’s chest. Tom’s legs trembled, a thin trickle of urine running down his thighs.

_I’m going to die._

Hands grabbed his arms and he was shoved back, slamming into the edge of the buffet table and bruising his hip.

Benedict now stood in his place.

“No more James! No more! Please not Tom. You promised he wouldn’t get hurt!”

‘I thought you’d figure out by now that I lie,” James said.

Robert’s teeth dug deep into James’ arm and he screamed, back-smacking him, and causing him to fall out of his grasp. Benedict saw the opportunity and aimed his own weapon. James aimed his. Both shot at the same time. James fell down and was still. Benedict was bleeding out. Tom screamed and rushed to kneel beside him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Forgive me,” Benedict whispered.

“Sh… It’s ok…” Tom pressed his hands into Benedict’s seeping chest. Tears ran down his face, dripping off his nose onto the blood. “It’s ok.”

The screaming had stopped now, to be replaced by moaning.

“When I heard what they were going to do, I tried to stop them. I shot the ones shooting at the ones fleeing. I didn’t believe they would do it,” Benedict said.

“You’ll be alright.”

Robert now knelt beside Tom, both of their arms were now drenched in Benedict’s blood.

“I should have believed you-“ Benedict’s slender frame trembled violently.

“Sh.. sh…”

Benedict’s eyes glazed over.

“Oh my god…” Robert gasped.

Tom looked around the room, where at least thirty bodies lay dead and dying, including the gunmen and women. Hayley was screaming and cradling the dead body of Chadwick in her arms.

“No no no! No please, no please!” Sebastian was shaking Anthony’s lifeless corpse.

Danai and Chris sat by Scarlett’s slack body. Chris was stroking her hair and Danai sat beside him, white faced and bulge-eyed.

“How could this happen?” Tom asked Robert.

Guilt coursed through him. Robert was alive. Robert had survived. Despite the anguish of those brutally cut down, that was his priority.

“Thank god you’re alive,” Robert said, holding him so tight his muscles ached.

*

That night, Tom allowed Robert to prepare and enter him without thought or concern to being triggered. He only knew he needed to meld together with his partner, to become one and lose himself in the intimate dance. As he came, mewling and gripping the flesh of Robert's back, he allowed a moment to be free of the shackles of his angst. Robert thrust twice more and cried out his name, before taking his mouth in a kiss.

Both lay panting, before Robert lifted up onto his arms, staring down at him.

“With what happened tonight…When the reality hits it’s going to be devastating. Right now, I just feel numb.”

Tom’s mind went back to Benedict’s shaking, dying body. The man who he had gone to the wedding of, shared in his excitement over winning the role of Doctor Strange, laughed, cried and grew angry with, as with all great friendships.

Scarlett. He had initially harboured feelings towards her, had entertained vague notions of a church wedding, Scarlett looking sumptuous in an off-white wedding dress. After the romantic feelings wore off, he appreciated her even more, for her refreshing candour and dry wit.

Chadwick was well cast as T’Challa. Both bore a similar quiet commanding elegant presence.

He had considered Anthony to be as witty as Robert, though would never admit that to his partner.

More death and violence. When would it end?

The hurt was nestled in his stomach, but wasn’t pounding at his insides, yet.

“You’re so brave, so strong…” Robert ran his fingers through his hair.

“Robert…”

“I love you so much it physically pains me.”

Robert leant down and kissed him all over his face, little pecks on his flesh.

“Next time there’s a bunch of assholes shooting up a place, you don’t freeze, alright?”

Tom nodded.

*

Tom stood at the top of Mount Lee, directly in front of the H of the Hollywood sign.

“Predictable I know,” the familiar voice sounded.

Seeing the man walk up to him, Tom gaped, his body frozen in shock.

“Dad! Is this real?”

“Unfortunately not. Your dad was a victim of the plague. I appear in the form most comfortable to others.”

Ice water doused Tom’s innards.

“You’re _him_.”

“Indeed, I am. It’s interesting what form I take for people. For James it was an old acting teacher he was fond of. Jeremy was interesting.” The man smiled. “The form I took for him was you. He really did love you, in his own way.”

“He attacked me! Assaulted me!”

The man shrugged. “He was never good at modulating his feelings. But he truly did believe you to be special.”

Tom shook his head, folded his arms. “What do you want with me?”

“To tell you not to be afraid. We’ve set up a nice little community here.”

“We just had a group of people be murdered by your followers!”

“I don’t have control over other people’s actions. Besides, it doesn’t mater what I say. You will come to me.”

‘I don’t think so,” Tom shook his head.

“You have such heart. They all do. But you… you crave so much to be loved. There’s always that fear, in the back of your mind, that they will turn on you, tell you you’re worth nothing. That’s why you stayed with Jeremy. Being with another, staving off that overwhelming loneliness, was preferable to being raped.”

“Stop…” Fire now battled the ice in Tom’s innards.

“You will come because Chris wants to come.”

“Chris?”

The man nodded. “He has vowed vengeance against what happened there tonight. He is determined to come across and destroy me. He will fail. You will not be able to bear the thought of leaving a friend in need. So, when he refuses to listen to your earnest attempts to get him to stay, you will leave with him.”

“I will never,” Tom said.

*

Tom viewed his sleeping partner a long moment, before leaning forward and kissing his lips.

“Mm…” Robert murmured.

The dream had been odd, but he didn’t believe it would turn out to be prophetic. Even so, he was compelled to speak to Chris.

“I’ll be going out for a while. Be back soon.”

“Mm… come back soon… give me lots of kisses….”

“That will be a priority.”

*

Chris was walking out the front of his house, with a determined expression. Tom’s stomach dropped. This was not promising.

“What are you doing here?”

_Best not to lie._

“I dreamed about _him_ last night. He told me you were leaving. What are you thinking, Chris?”

“What am I _thinking_? _He_ caused the others to kill Scarlett, Anthony, Chadwick. He manipulated Benedict.”

“ _He_ didn’t do anything! They chose this terrible action. No one else.”

“He manipulated Jeremy. He said the man told him where to find us!”

“That was Jeremy’s actions alone. Jeremy was the one who made that choice to attack me and Sebastian.”

Chris took out his weapon and checked the cylinder.

“I’m going. For Scarlett. For Chadwick. For Anthony. I killed Jeremy. He committed a terrible act against you and I have no regret. Just as I’ll have no regret killing whatever this man is.”

“What about Sebastian?”

The hands holding the gun now shook.

“I’m doing this for him!”

“Getting yourself killed for him?” Tom said, following him down the street. “I understand we’re all upset right now-“

“No, I’m clear headed. I know what I’m going to do,” Chris elongated his spine.

“We don’t even know if he’s real.”

“He’s real,” Chris said. “If Ruby was real, so is he.”

“Chris, Jeremy was… He wasn’t an evil man.”

Chris turned to face him, red splotches appearing on his cheeks.

“He raped you, Tom! More than once! If that’s not evil then I don’t know what is. Notice how all of the ones who speak positively about the guy in Los Angeles turn out to be terrible? No, I need to save Sebastian. Save them all.”

Tom held back, as Chris kept moving forward, flabbergasted.

“This is a suicide mission.”

“No, I’ll succeed. Go back to Robert, Tom. He needs you.”

_You need me more._

Tom realised, with a sinking heart, that the man had been right. Chris was suffering from some kind of break. He could not leave him alone, to suffer and die.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, I can’t allow this.”

Tom gripped his arm.

“There is no ‘no’. I’m coming with you and that’s final.”

Tbc…


	11. Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is coming to an end. I plan to do two more chapters then an epilogue.  
> Thanks to all who are still following this crazy dark ride!

Tom’s breathing became deep and even, signalling his voyage into dreamland. Though their legs were entangled and Robert’s arm was curled around Tom’s chest, he wasn’t close enough. To remedy his wanton need, Robert pressed his chest against his partner’s back, relishing in the scorch of his flesh, as he buried his face in his rich ginger-blond curls. The lovemaking that night had been the most passionate yet. Odd it would take the death of their friends, for Tom to cast aside his clear tension from any other time they were intimate and moan and sigh, moving fluid with Robert, releasing himself to the moment.

_That’s fine, gorgeous. You can sleep. You’re safe, here, with me._

With all the carnage that had occurred earlier that evening, they weren’t going to get to Tom. Even if it meant staying up all night and day, keeping him there, in their bed, Robert would make certain no one touched him ever again.

_No one gets to my sweet Tom._

Robert’s heart pounded so hard in his chest, he was sure he would burst a coronary artery. Yes, that would be the irony, to survive the spree killing from the red robed asses, to then have a heart attack that night and die.

Could it be possible? Could Tom awaken to his body, cold and stiff beside him?

Ruby had promised he would see Susan and his family once more. At this stage, he didn’t wish to test that theory. However, he couldn’t shake the guilt, of choosing his life, choosing Tom and, to a lesser extent, Chris and Sebastian, over potentially seeing his family again. He had promised Susan he would continue on, despite the darkness, despite the pain, which had been monumental, at times, particularly in the beginning.

He went through the tally in his mind. How many people lived on the planet? Six billion? How many had survived? Would human beings survive, as a species? So far, there was one pregnant woman in the entire town, which gave humans the edge, provided the baby lived. Following from that, because the Creator was a son of a bitch, thirty people in the town had been murdered, including the always impressive, fun and amazing Scarlett, and Anthony and Chadwick, who he didn’t know as well, but who he was familiar enough with, to respect and admire. Hayley had lost her partner. Chris and Sebastian had lost their good friends.

Then there was the outlier.

Benedict.

Beyond Robert acknowledging the close bond between the two British compadres, he had been fond of Benedict, had respected him. Benedict had a dry wit to him, could keep up with Tom, when it came to book and political smarts. As with Tom, Benedict had cared for the suffering of those with less privilege than him, spoke of the world with terms as ‘equity’ and ‘social justice’. This made Benedict’s turn to the veritable Dark Side even more confusing and heartbreaking. What had happened to him? What had James poisoned his mind with? There were, of course, hints of his mindset; from his strong belief that Robert was a narcissist, and that James was the only person who cared for him. Tom would, of course, bear the majority of the guilt, whether warranted or not, for Benedict’s betrayal. However, to Robert, they all had a part to play, in recognising Benedict was taking a strange turn and not doing enough to stop him.

Do what? His mind countered him. Tom was with him almost every day. Benedict had been with James for months before that. Perhaps they never had a chance.

_Destiny._

The word floated in his mind, with nothing to snatch onto. Was it true? If it was, fate was cruel. Why did billions of people have to die? But then, was the opposite any more optimistic? That there was no reason for any of this. The billions of plague victims would rot in the ground, their deaths unanswered.

Robert breathed in the citrusy scent of Tom’s hair and, for hours, refused to allow sleep to take him, the multiple neurons firing in his brain, which triggered thoughts, memories and painful emotions, disallowing the pleasure, of joining Tom’s dreams.

*

Robert wiped away sleep’s cobwebs, to a banging noise. Rolling over, he grumbled, as he noted the lack of British gorgeousness beside him. A vague memory entered his hazy brain, of Tom telling him he was going out and would return. No early morning sex then. The banging continued.

“Robert! I’m going to let myself in!” Sebastian said.

_Damn it, Sebastian. Would you let me pee?_

Robert strode over to the toilet and finished his business, before retreating to the lounge room, where a frantic, shaken Sebastian paced.

_And I haven’t even had my first coffee, yet._

“Ok, whatever it is, just let me get my cof-“

“Robert, Chris and Tom are gone!”

Robert stopped, mid-step, and turned back to him.

“What do you mean, gone?”

“I woke up this morning, to find the house empty. I asked around and Chris and Tom were seen getting into our car and leaving an hour ago. Leaving the town.”

Robert wished Sebastian wouldn’t talk such nonsense when his mind was still foggy from sleep.

“No, that doesn’t make sense-“

“Robert listen!” Sebastian’s pupils were dilated, the blue irises a thin slit. “After everything that happened last night, Chris was… well he wasn’t making sense. He kept saying he couldn’t bear more deaths. He had to stop anyone else from being killed. He was talking about the Man. I told him we don't even know if he exists! Chris was talking about how he had killed Jeremy. But it wasn’t enough. It was the wrong one. I managed to calm him down. Or I thought I did. He left me a note, the son of a bitch.”

“What did the note read? Do you have it?” Robert asked.

“I tore it up…” His cheeks flushed pink. “I was… a tad angry. It said he was sorry but he was going to make sure the Man never interfered with us again.”

“What are you saying? That he’s going to Los Angeles to kill… whatever _he_ is?”

Sebastian nodded. “I don’t know why Tom would go with him though.”

_Oh my god, it’s real isn’t it? They’ve left, together._

Robert swayed on the spot, reaching for a chair nearby, solidifying the hard wood with his hands, which brought him back to unfortunate reality.

“Tom told me this morning he was going out for a while. If he did run into Chris, and couldn’t convince him to stay… Yes, Tom would have gone with him, to try and keep him safe.”

“Why didn’t Tom physically force him to stay? That’s what I would have done!”

“Tom doesn’t work that way,” Robert smiled ruefully. “And nor do you.”

“I don’t… You’re right…” Sebastian ran his hands through his hair. “This is Chris’s strange way of protecting me, but he had no right to make that choice for me! He had no right!” Angry tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I agree,” Robert whispered.

Sebastian wiped his eyelids. “They wouldn’t be too far away. If we take a car now, we should be able to catch up to them.”

“You said an hour ago?”

Sebastian nodded. “And when I do… I don’t believe in physical violence, but I will be tempted to smack Chris for doing this to us!”

“We’ll find them, alright? They won’t get far.”

*

After piling gear, including extra clothes, a map, food, and full cans of petrol, into one of the few cars in town that not only had been recently used, but also had a near full petrol tank, Robert and Sebastian were about to climb into the front car doors and leave, when Hayley, Rene and Danai walked towards them. Danai carried a rucksack as tall as her body. Upon viewing Hayley’s round stomach, Robert felt a sharp kick in his own. She would have no Chadwick, to share in the birth with. In that instant, Chris’s mad plan seemed plausible.

“We heard what happened. Chris and Tom left town,” Hayley said.

“They’re going after the Man in Los Angeles, aren’t they?” Danai asked.

“Well, Chris is. Tom is there for… back up,” Robert shrugged.

“Me and Rene are coming with you,” Danai said.

“Woh woh! We are not going to Los Angeles!” Robert said. “We are going to find our two runaways and bring them back!”

“We lost Ruby, Scarlett, Chadwick, Anthony-“ Danai said, ticking them off, with her fingers.

“We know!” Sebastian said. “But those deaths had nothing to do with anyone in Los Angeles! We don’t even know if this man exists!”

“He exists,” Rene said. “I’ve dreamed of him.”

“So have I,” Hayley said.

“And me,” Danai agreed. “All three of us had the same dream. He looked different for all of us, but he was the same man. He was standing in the middle of the bodies of our loved ones and he was laughing, saying this proved Ruby was no Christ figure.”

This gave Sebastian pause, but not Robert.

“If you want to go to Los Angeles, knock yourselves out. We are rescuing our idiot boyfriends.”

“Me and Danai are coming with you. We won’t accept no,” Rene said.

Robert and Sebastian met eyes and the Romanian slammed a frustrated fist against the car roof.

*

“I worked it out,” Sebastian said, holding out the map. Robert took his hand off the steering wheel and moved the paper away from him, so it was no longer partially obscuring his needed view of the road. “Sorry. Los Angeles is around thirty hours away. Not that we’ll get that far. They’ll take the quickest route. If we go through the I-20 W.”

“I think so too,” Robert said, frowning. “We’ll find them before they get to Los Angeles, I promise.”

“We should split up the driving,” Danai said, from the back. “Robert, if you’re happy to drive for now, tell us when you’re tired and we’ll swap.”

“I honestly believe we’ll find them before that will be necessary,” Sebastian said.

Robert glanced down at the odometer. Noting he was going far too slow, he pressed down harder onto the accelerator.

“If we find an abandoned Maserati let me know.”

*

Robert scanned the distance, which was dotted with rusting vehicles. He’d been driving for twelve hours straight now, with no sign of Tom or Chris. Twilight had turned into night, yet, even with Rene and Danai asleep in the back, his brain was still alert, as he manoeuvred around the hulking beasts filled with now petrified corpses, his being now attuned to their horror.

_Amazing how well the mind adapts._

“It’s funny…” Beside him, Sebastian had one sneaker resting on the dashboard. “We were once the most famous people in the world. All because of movies. Pretending to be someone we’re not. When I think about it, it really is strange. People screaming our names. All lining up for hours to see us.”

“Out of all of us, even Chris, who got anxiety, I always thought you disliked the fame part the most,” Robert glanced at him.

“I didn’t dislike it…” Sebastian plucked at his shoelace. “Maybe, at times. I didn’t dislike the fans. It was more the enormity of it all. I could never get my head around it. I was never one to want the spotlight. Ironic, really.”

Robert flitted a warm smile at him.

“Do you remember how I introduced myself to you? With me pumping weights in front of an Iron Man mask?”

Robert laughed. “I thought at the time ‘He’s beautiful! And insane… Oh god I want him.’”

“You weren’t subtle about it, either.”

“I backed off when I realised you weren’t interested,” Robert bit his lip, his mind returning to Jeremy. Jeremy flirting with Tom and Tom smiling and, while not reciprocating, not denying him either. Jeremy’s behaviour becoming more troublesome; the ‘accidental’ touches and jokey grabs to Tom’s ass or leg. At the time, it had all been a joke. Only, Tom rarely laughed along.

_I’m so sorry, Tom. I saw it. We all did. But we said and did nothing._

“You were never sleazy, Robert,” Sebastian placed a hand on his arm.

“I didn’t think you were interested in men.”

“I wasn’t! I was open to it. I was open to Chris… What’s ironic is I was turned off the idea of me and Chris because everyone wanted us to be together. Both on screen and off.”

“Always have to be the contrary one,” Robert slowed down, to manoeuvre around a Cadillac that would have been a beautiful vehicle, before the plague decimated all conceptions of the aesthetics of rustable objects.

“I’m not sure why it annoyed me. But…I suppose people were tapping into something and I was too cowardice to admit it,” Sebastian said.

“Yes, Bucky and Steve had hot sweet sex. That was obvious,” Robert said. “And you had the chance to have a sweet night of lovemaking with yours truly. But you turned me down for the insanely handsome Chris Evans.”

“You wanted Tom, even then,” Sebastian shook his head. “The Instagram post with Tony Stark wearing the t-shirt saying ‘I heart Loki’?”

“That was a joke! A damned clever one, too!”

_Thou doth protest too much, Bobby._

“You were desperate for his attention. ‘Respond respond to me, Tom!’” Sebastian grinned.

“It backfired,” Robert admitted. “Tom was shamed by the media for that Taylor Swift t-shirt. It was worn as a joke, on the media itself. I understood that. I thought it was clever. Turning the media’s infatuation with the love lives of celebrities back on itself. I was trying to show him I understood the joke. Didn’t matter. The media are idiots. Again, with the golden globes speech-“

“What speech is that? Did Tom win a golden globe?”

“For the Night Manager.”

“Oh! Good for him!”

“He managed to louse it up. Tried to say something heartfelt and it didn’t come out the right way. Again, I could see what he was saying. The media cruelled him for it. Seemed to think he was being self-important. Again, the media are idiots. But, you know Tom, he took it to heart. Felt completely humiliated. Even apologised for it! That man needs to stop apologising for everything! I love him but his need to appease gets on my nerves. Especially when its towards people who, in reality, deserve to sit in the corner with the dunce cap on.”

“Maybe that’s better than thinking he’s righteous in his actions, like Chris.”

“Chris isn’t himself,” Robert said. “He’s suffered a major trauma… as we all have. He hasn’t had time to digest. I’m sure Tom will convince him to turn around.”

“He’d better,” Sebastian said, folding his arms.

*

“What’s this?” Robert asked, picking up Danai’s satchel, which covered the entire back seat floor. His curiosity overcame his need to be polite and he opened it, to peer inside.

Danai spun turned from where she now sat in the front seat, beside the driving Rene.

“Robert-“

Silver flashed off a curved blade.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“What do you think it is?” Danai asked.

“It looks like a big assed sword!”

Beside him, Sebastian threw his coat, which he’d been using as a blanket, off himself and looked over Robert’s shoulder, to the item in his hands.

 “I’ve had plenty of practice with swords, in my time on Walking Dead,” Danai explained.

“You plan to kill the Man in Los Angeles using a sword?” Sebastian asked, his tone awed.

Danai turned back to the front. “Of course, I will. If Chris doesn’t get to him first.”

Sebastian gave Robert an incredulous glance. Robert shrugged. If she wanted to stab others with swords, fine. As long as she went stabby when they reached Los Angeles and not before.

*

 Robert had been to the Hollywood sign many times, throughout his life. In his early years, after having consumed an amount of drugs and alcohol that would have been lethal for most people, he would often wander up, to sit under the W. He wasn’t sure what it was about the W that appealed to him, in his drug fuelled state. Walking around the edge of the H, he considered it a great shock he didn’t, at the time, in his drug mania, climb to the top of one of the letters and decide he was a bird and could fly.

“Robert!” The familiar figure climbed up the edge of the hill to his left.

“Son of a damned bitch!” Robert murmured and ran to Tom, pulling him into his arms. “Where are you, you son of a damned bitch?” He kissed him all over his face. Although Robert was aware this was a dream, Tom’s flesh was warm, real.

Tom pushed him back. “I thought you would be smarter than that, Robert.” His smile was vulpine. “I’m not your Tom. I come in the form that is comfortable for people. In this case, for you, it’s your Tom. Though I have other names. Legion is one.”

Robert laughed, to cull the disappointment flooding his system.

“Oh really?”

“Did you consider your world isn’t the first the Creator decided they had enough of? Yours isn’t the first. And it won’t be the last. It’s always the same. The inhabitants become too greedy, destroy the natural resources,” the Tom-doppelganger pointed at himself. “He was right, when he said the world will be a beautiful place, in a hundred years or so. Lush with flora and fauna. So, the majority of the population is taken out and I get reborn. So does Ruby. Dark and light. And the rest of the inhabitants decide which side they will take. More culling. Some of you will survive, oh yes. The Creator shows their mercy, by allowing some to survive and hopefully learn to not take too much.”

“Mm hm… sounds like complete twaddle to me,” Robert said.

The Tom doppelganger smiled once more and it occurred to Robert who he now reminded him of.

Loki.

 A true Loki, vindictive, sociopathic, without Tom’s charm or underlying compassion.

“Your Tom and Chris will come to Los Angeles. And they will die. I’m sorry. Both of them will be raped, tortured, strung up for all my people to see what we do to those who try kill us.”

“Listen here, mini-dictator asshole-“ Robert said.

“Chris will find being raped unpleasant. As for him,” the Man again gestured back to himself. “Well, he’d be used to it by now, wouldn’t he?”

“Robert…” A voice said. “Robert.”

Robert’s eyes sprang open, to Sebastian’s concerned face. Danai had also spun around from the front seat, towards them.

“You were moaning and crying in your sleep.”

“Nightmare,” Robert said, not wanting to reveal the contents of the bizarre dream. It was merely his worst fears playing out, that was all.

*

The car slammed to a stop, a metre before the fallen tree. All four moved out, to stare at the behemoth blocking their path. The weather had been windy throughout the night, massive gusts rocking the vehicle, and disrupting the rest of Robert’s sleep.  Every so often, rolling thunder would sound, and a flash of lightening would brighten the sky. But the storm wasn’t enough to knock a tall tree across a road! That was ridiculous.

“Look here,” Sebastian said, standing on the grass and examining the end. “Burn marks. Perhaps lightning struck it.”

“Do you think Tom and Chris are on the other side of this tree?” Rene had climbed up, to stand on the horizontal trunk.

“So, it fell between _them_ going through and _us_ going through? Why do I get the impression someone is against us finding them?” Sebastian frowned.

“We go around it,” Robert said. “Easy.”

“Not much space, on either side,” Rene said.

Robert looked to the left, at the dense vegetation sprouting out to the edge of the road, and to the right, where the vegetation was similar, but not as dense.

“There, if we can clear some of that vegetation, we should be able to fit the car through.”

*

Clearing out the vegetation consisted of a good two hours work,consisting of swearing and tugging with their hands and Danai using what was confirmed to be a sword, to clear the area enough for the car to fit through. The other three were sceptical it would squeeze through such a small space. Robert managed to succeed. The car was scratched on both sides by the trunk and a nearby other tree and the sharp noise that sounded, as it slid across the two rough surfaces, caused them all to screech with ear anguish. As Robert steered the vehicle back onto the road on the other side, the group cheered.

They were now over three hours behind Tom and Chris. He prayed that wouldn’t make too much of a difference

*

“Robert…” Sebastian’s soft voice broke through Robert’s focus on the long dark road ahead. Sitting in the front seat next to the driving Romanian, he had been attempting to sleep once more, but his brain was too busy recanting the odd dream over and over.

“Hm… what is it?”

“I… I dreamed of Anthony last night.”

Robert sat up straighter. “Were you at the Hollywood sign?”

“The Hollywood sign? No…”

“The… whatever that damned thing is from Los Angeles. He took the form of Tom. Because he takes a form  that’s comforting to us. If it wasn’t just the usual ‘brain having fun’ dream, that would be who it was, not Anthony… I can’t believe I’m even saying this.”

Sebastian tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe… in the dream, I was back in Montgomery, swinging on the swing, with Anthony beside me. He was laughing. I swear, Robert, he was so real. He told me Chris was being an idiot. Tom was being an idiot by going with him. Then he said it was a shame about Frank.”

“Frank?” Robert said. “Who?”

Sebastian shook his head. “The only Frank I can think of is Frank Grillo, who was with us on Winter Soldier. But why would he mention him? Then he warned you to be careful. He said it’s going to be a shock when we see Frank, but make sure everyone keeps an eye on Robert. It was so strange. So real. I asked him if he was real. I told him he was dead. He laughed. Hugged me. Felt so real… Maybe it was just my mind working through the grieving process.”

Robert nodded. “I’m sure it was.”

*

They drove around Las Vegas and were half-way between the casino town and Los Angeles, when Sebastian’s dream made sense. Rene, who had been driving, slammed on the brakes, the car skidding along the ground. Sebastian was the first out, rushing forward, and falling to the ground, at the foot of the strung-up man.

“Who is it?” Robert asked, following him, with Danai and Rene behind.

“No, I can’t… no more, no more…” Sebastian sobbed. “I can’t handle any more of this.”

The man was pale in death, the dried blood on his white shirt, courtesy of his gaping neck wound, proof of how he had died. His face was puffy and bruised, as were his muscular arms. He had been strung up on a light pole, his arms outstretched over the telephone wires, as though he were a religious sacrifice. On around his neck, was a board that read ‘Traitor’.

“It’s Frank Grillo,” Sebastian said.

“He was in Civil War, of course!” Robert hadn’t met him, on set, but Chris and Sebastian always spoke well of him.

“What’s he doing all the way out here? Will there be more of these?” Danai asked.

“It’s a present, for us,” Robert said, as Rene knelt down to comfort Sebastian. “I’d prefer chocolates and flowers. Traditional kind of guy.”

Robert was backing away from the body, deciding he’d had enough of corpses for a lifetime, when a rock behind him caught the back of his heel. He was aware he was going down, could sense it happening, in slow motion. His other foot came out to cease the fall but, too late, he slid up and fell hard, to the side. Exquisite pain sluiced through him, as he landed on the gravel road at an odd angle, a sharp snapping sounding. Time froze. Robert looked down at his left ankle and furrowed his brow, as though contemplating a logic puzzle. The flesh on the side bulged and his foot hung off the ankle at an unnatural angle. Danai rushed over.

“Robert! Can you move your ankle?” Robert attempted to move his foot and found he couldn’t without sharp pain. He cried out again. “Can you feel this?” She grabbed his toe.

“Yes, but oh god it hurts! It hurts!” Robert said.

“It’s broken,” Sebastian’s visage was deathly pale. “Remember my dream, Robert?”

Robert deepened his breathing, closing his eyelids against the pain.

“Alright, up we get,” Danai tried to hoist him up. Robert again screamed as agony thrilled through him.

“You’re right! It’s broken. How the hell did I manage to break my ankle on the damned road, while walking? How does that happen?”

The three others exchanged identical concerned expressions. He could already guess what they were going to say.

“We can’t turn back,” he said. “But I can’t go forward with a damned broken ankle! I guess you could leave me in the car. Seems we are in the for the long haul, aren’t we? We’re going into Los Angeles.”

“They might have medical people in Los Angeles, who can help him,” Danai said.

“They might also kill him as soon as they see him. Kill all of us,” Sebastian pointed out. “I need to keep going. I need to find Chris.”

“Damn it!” Robert thumped the ground, frustrated tears burning his eyes. “I can’t go on, can I?”

“I’ll stay with him,” Rene said. “We’ll find a vehicle to rest up, until you guys come back. I’ll scrounge for a first aid kit, see if I can stabilise the ankle.”

“We haven’t seen another car for a good mile up the road,” Danai said.

Sebastian turned to the car and opened the back door, as Robert slid to the ground. A canal lay to his left side, the ground sloping down to a narrow channel, lined with oddly lush desert plants.  

 “Proof we’re not all idiots,” Sebastian handed over a box with the red X written on it.

“Fantastic, Sebastian!” Robert said.

“I feel odd leaving you two here…” Sebastian frowned. “We can give you all of our blankets and supplies but…”

“We’ll be fine. It should only be a few hours, right?”

“It gets pretty cold overnight…”

Danai brought out a tent from inside the vehicle. Robert recognised it as his own.

“That should make it fun. Like a sleepover.”

“Well we can a least…”

Being injured had its perks. Robert watched as the others set up the tent by the side of the road, adding all of the blankets and sleeping bags from the car inside, as well as the majority of the food and supplies, while Rene used a bandage and stick to splint his ankle.

“Not my proudest work but will have to do, for now.”

“I think I’ll climb into that tent pretty soon,” Robert said, his teeth chattering. “It’ already pretty cold.”

“Maybe we should go back,” Sebastian said.

“Go, find your Chris. Find my Tom. I can’t join you. Every movement is damned agony.”

Sebastian knelt beside him. “I feel awful…”

“You didn’t cause this,” Robert said.

“We’re abandoning you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I’ll be fine. I want you to find my Tom. Please, Sebastian. Find Chris. Find my Tom. Bring them back. I’ll be here, waiting, with Rene.”

Sebastian pulled him into a warm embrace. “I promise. I will find them both and bring them back to you.”

Danai also pulled him into a more awkward hug, also embracing Rene, before both piled back into the car and the two watched the vehicle grow smaller as it went into the distance. Robert’s gut clenched, as he considered perhaps he had made a mistake, in allowing them to leave without him.  
*

“How is it that we never got to work together?” Robert asked. Rain pounded against their tent. Already, a small puddle had formed on the far-left hand corner, away from their two sleeping bags.

“We were even in the MCU but not once did our paths cross. Didn’t help that my character, Frigga, was fridged, so Thor and Loki could have motivation to join forces in Thor three.”

“Fridged?”

“When a character is killed off so another has motivation for revenge. Happens often in comic books. Cliqued and disappointing if you ask my opinion. Frigga was worth more,” Rene shrugged. “Tends to happen with female partners of the male superheroes.”

_Tom would have words about this, would rush to agree with her._

“None of that matters now. We’ll see if the same gender roles will apply in our new society.”

“You stopped acting for a while, I noticed.”

“I did. It’s funny,” she placed her head on her hand. “I suffer from bipolar disorder. The lows were so low…In a way, I was prepared for what the anguish of losing so much.”

Robert looked at the tent’s side canvas, the water slamming into the side.

“Do you think this Man exists?”

“He exists. As real as Ruby was. I believe they will find him, too. Maybe even kill him, or die in the process. Why did I survive? My entire family, friends. Gone. But I live on. One day, I’ll re-join them, in paradise.”

“If it exists.”

“It exists. There’s no need to be fearful.”

Robert wished he had the certainty that she did. Perhaps having such a strong foundation in belief may have made his life easier.

“There’s no need to be afraid. You will see your loved ones again. We all will, one day,” Rene placed a hand over his.

“I hope so. I really do.”

*

He awoke four hours later, his bladder throbbing with the desire to urinate. Unzipping the tent, he groaned, at the still driving rain. Grimacing with pain, he hopped out and relieved himself on the ground, before moving to go back and losing his balance, slipping and falling on the slippery, muddy earth.

“Great! Yes, this is wonderful!” He went to move up again, when a tremor shook the ground beneath his feet. He screamed, initially in shock, then in terror, as he went to stand and lost his footing again, sliding down an embankment. The ground continued to shake, jolting him from side to side, making it impossible to stand.

_Earthquake! Of course, just my damned luck, at this time._

Unable to grip the slippery earth at his fingers, he slid even further down the embankment and looked down, to a sight that iced his insides with terror.

_Where did that monstrosity come from?_

“Help! Help!”

The tent unzipped and Rene ran out after him, reached over to grab his hand. Robert slid further down, away from her, and closer to the raging flow of muddy water, below.

“Robert, it’s okay! Just don’t panic!”

Rene reached out further for him but lost her balance, herself, screaming, as she fell head first into the flowing torrent, below.

“Rene!” Robert screamed, reaching down for her and sliding straight down into the water, which tore at his frigid flesh, creating pinpricks of pain all over his body. Water filled his mouth and he spat it out, kicking up.

“Rene!” He spun around, from side to side, branches and roots zipping past him. He went under and panic took him, his mouth open in a scream, before he rose up again and managed to grab a branch with his hand, pulling first his head, then his shoulders, followed by his feet, out of the swirling water. He continued using the life-saving tree, to pull himself out of the raging torrent and little by little, slithered on the ground back up the bank.

“Rene!” He looked down and couldn’t see her in the rush of muddy water.

Robert made it to the top of the embankment and back to the tent, refusing to go back in, needing to wait for her to reappear. One minute passed. Then five. Then ten. Then an hour. Rene didn’t return. The rain had decided to cease in its destructive fury and pattered out. Robert’s teeth chattered.  He risked looking over the edge of the embankment. Rene was nowhere to be seen.

The night raged on. Robert slid back into the tent, took off his wet clothes and changed into dry ones, wrapping the blankets around himself. Sleep would not come. He walked out and called out Rene’s name again. The sun was peeking her head up over the horizon. Robert stepped to the edge again and looked down. A shape lay at the bottom the now dwindling water. Human shaped, in a foetal position.

“Oh no…”

No, it couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be.

Robert’s ankle throbbed and he cried out, retreating back to the tent. As the day lightened, Robert allowed his mind to wander. He was convinced he heard a wolf call, birds twittering. In his half-awake, half-dream state, Loki visited him.

“Not Tom. Tom could never achieve my grandeur. Too soft…”

Bucky showed off his new metal arm. “Great, isn’t it? Anyway, must dash. Mum’s cooking sausages.”

“Mm… sounds good…” Robert wandered back out of the tent. The sun was up now. He glanced over the edge. The shape at the bottom was Rene’s. From the misshapen bloodied skull, she’d fallen of the edge, smashed her skull on a rock and died.

Robert slumped to the floor.

“You humans. So weak,” Loki said, kneeling beside Robert. “Robert.”

“Robert! Robert! Oh my god it’s you! It’s you! I came upon poor Frank, then I saw the tent and-“

Robert turned his head to another part dream-hallucination- Tom kneeling beside him, face flushed with excitement, shaking his shoulder, before embracing him.

“I knew you’d try and find us!” Tom laughed, kissed Robert’s lips. “I’m so fucking happy to see you!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear. Sounds cute and antiquated coming from you.”

Tom pulled back, smiling. “I’m sorry, Robert. I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.”

_Tom’s apologizing. Of course, he is because he always-_

Robert now pulled back, touching his cheeks, his neck, his shirt.

“You’re really here!”

“Of course I’m here!” Tom laughed.

Tom was there with him and appeared to be physically fine; no bruises, cuts or injuries marred his lovely physique.

“You’re here and you’re okay.”

“I’m alright, Robert. Poor Frank. Poor poor Frank. He tried to help-“ Tom looked down. “Oh no! Have you fractured your ankle?”

Tom was so focused on him, he hadn’t noticed Rene’s body merely metres away from them. He’d have a lot to explain to Tom. As Tom had a lot to explain to him. No matter. Robert drew him in for a leisurely kiss.

“Don’t you ever leave me again!” Robert said, hugging him close to his body.

“I’m so glad I found you…” Tom whispered, returning the embrace.

Tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter pov will go back to Tom, because the chapter after, the climax, happens with Seb and Chris.


	12. Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up to the climax now. This is getting pretty crazy and not my best work but still, I feel compelled to finish. Warnings for the usual death and violence.

For the first two hours of his and Chris’s road trip, Tom fantasized he was back in Montgomery and, more precisely, in bed with Robert. If he was back in their new home, his amazing and incredible partner would wake him up with soft kisses, cuddles and liberal smatterings of his wit. If Tom was ready and willing, they would make love and then shower together, giggling and soaping each other.

Now Robert would awake to a cold and empty bed, wondering when Tom would return. Chances were, he never would. Robert would never even discover why he had left.

“I’m sorry,” after two hours of silence, Chris’s soft voice startled him. “I had to do it. I’ve been so… the anxiety… I can’t… First, in the hospital. I was convinced we would die. I was terrified. That never left. Not really. And then Jeremy kidnapping Sebastian and you. The massacre. Scarlett and Anthony gone. I can’t have any more surprises. I can’t. I need to be in control. When I killed Jeremy, that was the first time I felt in control. I stopped a bad man from doing any further damage.”

Tom had listened with sympathy, until Chris spoke about killing Jeremy as being a positive action that enabled his own healing, without regard to Tom’s own trauma.

Fury built in his system, threatening to explode over. Tom considered allowing the pain, anguish, shame and anger to spew out, in a torrent of temper. He was tired of being the nice one, the good one. Tom’s so lovely, Tom’s so sweet. Tom doesn’t ever get angry or upset. Tom’s a perfect little snowflake. Tom can’t say a bad word against anyone. Tom lets people walk all over him.

“Yes, because who cares about me? I’m only the one who was raped. But let’s all walk on tiptoes around poor delicate Tom. I didn’t want you to kill Jeremy! Because it took away _my_ choice in deciding what I needed to do with him, to help me get through my trauma. I’ll never get to tell him how he destroyed me, mentally, physically and spiritually, never get him to understand what he put me through. Because you took that choice away from me! Do you understand that might have made me a little upset? But Tom’s fine. Tom will get over it. Because he’s so nice. So understanding. Fuck!”

Chris pulled the car over by the side of the road and switched off the ignition, staring down at the steering wheel, as though the thick plastic held all the answers.

“I’m so sorry, Tom. I didn’t…” Chris shook his head. “When you put it that way, I feel awful. I was selfish and an asshole and I’m…I’m just so sorry.”

Tom’s rigid being deflated, as he stooped his shoulders and hanged his head. Now he’d let it all out, the anger dissipated, to be replaced by shame at his outburst.

“It’s fine. You did what you did to protect me. And Sebastian,” Tom whispered.

“No, it’s not,” Chris grasped his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Tom could read in his handsome features and tone that he was genuine.

“Thank you, Chris. It’s important to me to hear you say that.”

Chris nodded, turned on the ignition and pulled back onto the road.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re poor delicate Tom at all. You put up with so much. Hell, you’re with Robert. That tells me a lot about how strong you are. But, I will say one thing. I’m sorry. You are probably the most genuine nicest person I’ve ever met. When I say it that way, it sounds so trite. But, it’s true.”

Tom stared out the window, to a dairy farm opposite. The grim reaper had taken most of the cows, whose corpses lay sprawled throughout the field. Their luckier counterparts munched on the grass, unmindful of the massacre metres away.

“I don’t want… I can’t belong to a society full of vengeance and violence,” Tom said, turning away from the window. “Too much of the old society was based around violence over forgiveness and understanding. Do you really think killing this man will make anything better? It won’t.”

Chris was silent a long moment, his mouth a thin line.

“You’re here because you’re trying to protect me from harm. It goes both ways. Nothing will happen to you, while you’re with me,” Chris’s tone was firm.

“I don’t think it works that way.” Tom didn’t want to add that he was sure both of them would be dead, by next sunrise.

*  
Tom had not been on a swing since he was a child, had forgotten how liberating it was to soar up into the air and down again.

“Looks like you’re having fun!” The voice sounded.

Tom gasped, letting go with his hands and landing on his back on the ground, before picking himself up and scrambling away from the familiar figure stepping off the grass and onto the sand surrounding the play equipment.

“I have no desire to talk to you,” Tom said. “Whatever you are.”

“I’m not the man from Los Angeles. Tom, it really is me. It’s Jeremy.” It appeared to be Jeremy. But Tom had learned appearances could be deceiving. He laughed, as he continued backing away from him.

“It’s okay,” Jeremy placed his palms up, in a ‘white flag’ gesture. “You’re safe. I won’t hurt you. Not any more. I want to… it won’t  take away what I did to you. But  I am shamed by my actions. I won’t make any excuses. When I was raping you, I knew you were in agony and distress and I didn’t care.”

Tom stopped moving. “What is this?”

“I wanted to hurt you, to humiliate you. I don’t know why. My actions made no sense.”

“Whatever this is… I don’t want it. I want out of this dream.” He closed his eyelids. “Please, I want out of this dream.”

“I genuinely loved you, in my own crazy way. Always found you so sweet. So lovely. Kind. I don’t know what it is about me that I wanted to destroy that.”

“Get me out of this dream!”

Jeremy exhaled, running a hand through his own short cropped hair.

“I’m making things worse. Again. I’m sorry, Tom. I’m glad you’ve found love and comfort with Robert. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me for the terrible things I did to you.”

Tears ran down Jeremy's reddened cheeks.

“You’ll be with Robert again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Tom blinked and the dream dissolved, the swing set and Jeremy replaced by the vehicle interior, Chris beside him.

“You okay? Were you just dreaming?”

“Nothing… just an odd dream, that’s all…” Tom bit his bottom lip, Jeremy’s beseeching look besmirching his mind.

*

“How long have you been driving?” Tom asked, noting the dark circles underlining Chris’s dull eyes.

“I don’t know. Hours.”

“Swap. I don’t want you to have an accident.”

Chris’s face creased with suspicion.

“I’ll keep driving to Los Angeles. I won’t betray you. We’ve both had enough betrayal for a lifetime.”

In response to his honesty, Chris pulled the car over to the side, turned off the ignition and handed him the keys. As Tom took them, Chris grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“I’m glad you’re here with me, on this crazy journey that will probably get us both killed.”

“Probably,” Tom said, squeezing back.

*

“He has to be Finn,” Tom said. “Finn from the Force Awakens.”

Chris shook his head. “Nope, it isn’t.”

“You said it was a stormtrooper. He is the only known stormtrooper.”

“It’s not him.”

After sleeping in such a sound fashion that Tom kept glancing over to check for the rise and fall of his chest, Chris had awoken to rain bucketing the car, as Tom drove past Phoenix. Neither were impelled to talk about what they had left behind, to reminisce old times, so had taken to playing traditional car word games, such as eye spy, and their current game, twenty questions. Tom didn’t consider it possible in their current predicament, but they had spent hours on these games, managing to, and then striving to make each other laugh.

“I give up,” Tom said.

“It’s easy, Tom. Think of known stormtroopers.”

“There are none!”

“Alright, you give up?”

“Yes, but hold on,” Tom concentrated on manoeuvring the vehicle around a pile up of three cars, which were so squashed together that a mangled corpse lay between the front windscreen of one car, and the back windscreen of the one in front.

“It’s the stormtrooper who banged his head on the ceiling in A New Hope,” Chris said, once they’d cleared the wreck.

Tom’s mouth flew open in mock outrage. “How was I meant to guess that one?”

“It wasn’t hard! Not as hard as Yorick. A skull? Come on, Tom.”

“At least Yorick exists! Is an actual character.”

Tom glanced at the grinning Chris and they both burst out laughing. Despite leaving Sebastian and Robert behind, despite them moving forward to certain brutal prolonged death, despite each fresh new horror, it felt good.

“Your go,” Chris said.

*

They hit the outskirts of Los Angeles, when they came upon the team, who stood in the middle of the road to greet them. Chris slammed on the brakes, the car skidding forward a few metres, before stopping.

“Is that-?” Chris asked, his eyes widening.

Tom stared back at him, excitement bubbling in his system. Both simultaneously opened the car doors and rushed forward, to greet the others. Tom reached Mark first, holding out his arms for a tight embrace, as Evans did likewise with Pratt.

“So good to see you, Tom,” Mark said, not unfolding his arms. Tom stood, awkward, his arms out in the air, before placing them down again. He noticed Pratt hadn’t returned Evans' hug, either.  “Good to see you and Chris both alive.”

Tom turned to Elizabeth, beside Mark, who also had her arms folded. An ugly sensation clenched his innards. Something was wrong. Why weren’t their friends happy to see them? He noticed the holstered guns, attached to their belts.

“Lizzy?”

He’d dated Elizabeth, before the pressures of the media and his natural inability to commit at that time drove them apart. They had been intimate. Why was she not acknowledging him?

“I wish you hadn’t come here,” Elizabeth said, head bowing down.

The fourth man, who Tom only knew by reputation stood with his arms unfolded, staring at him and Evans, an opaque glint in his dark brown irises.

“We’ve been told to come meet you,” Pratt said. “ _His_ sense of humour. Yes, he knows you’re coming. Figured it would be a party if your fellow actors came to meet you.”

“I’m sorry, Tom, Chris, but we have to put these on you,” Both Mark and Pratt held up handcuffs.

_No…_

Tom had always been ambivalent about being tied up, until Jeremy had tied him to the bed, leaving him powerless to stop his brutal attack.

_With each brutal thrust, the rope cut into his wrists, adding more pain to his already agonised self. Adding to his terror was the knowledge that Jeremy could do whatever he wanted to him, and he would not be able to stop it. Could strangle him, stab him. Could beat him to death, and he would not have the chance to defend himself._

Tom shuffled back, holding his hands up in supplication, his breath quickening.

“No, please, please don’t tie my hands please.” Panicked tears pricked his eyelids.

_Jeremy had left him helpless and bound, as he went out to Sebastian. He could have done anything he wanted to the other man. Raped him too. Killed him._

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Pratt said.

“It’s what _he_ wants,” Mark frowned.

_Jeremy could have left them both in that cabin, tied up, violated, to die a slow, painful death._

“Please don’t, please don’t…” He was aware how pathetic he sounded, in begging, but couldn’t cease himself.

Evans moved over and stood before him, covering him with his body, in a protective measure for which, in his vulnerable state, Tom was grateful for. “We’ll come with you, freely. Please don’t do this. Can’t you see he’s panicking?”

Mark’s hand reached up, as though to comfort Tom but then it came down again. There was no denying the pain etched across his features. Elizabeth studiously refused to look in their direction.

“Okay, we won’t,” Mark said, placing the handcuffs back in his pocket.

Tom closed his eyes, gripping Evan’s arm, to steady himself, the relief flowing through him almost enough to bring him to his knees.

“You okay, Tom?” Elizabeth asked.

“He’s fine! We’re all fantastic. You?” Evans displayed a level of sarcasm Tom had not heard before.

“I’m fine,” Tom forced a smile.

They walked Tom and Evans over to a van nearby. The fourth man climbed into the front seat with Pratt in the passenger side. Elizabeth and Mark sat before Tom and Evans, in the seats at the back. As the doors were slammed shut, and the van rolled forward, Evans spoke.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Local prison, for now,” Mark said.

Tom noted the tinted windows, his own pale, frightened visage staring back at him. He looked from Mark to Elizabeth. Both were tense. A light tremble ran through Mark.

_They’re terrified. That much is obvious._

“Why are you here? Why are you doing this to us? We’re your friends!” Evans said.

“Did you want to kill our leader?” Elizabeth asked.

“Why would you think that?” Evans asked.

“What did he promise you?” Tom asked. “Did it work? Did you get what you want?”

“Nothing,” Mark said. “We were already here when he arrived.”

“You’re frightened, both of you. Why don’t you just leave?” Tom asked.

“We can’t leave,” Elizabeth’s attention was once again drawn down to her hands.

“Sh!” Mark said to her and turned back to Tom and Evans, his eyes flashing fire. “Damn you guys! You shouldn’t have come here!”

“Why is that?” Tom asked.

“Because I don’t want to see you be hurt,” Mark said.

“Then don’t let us be hurt!” Evans asked, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder, in what he supposed was meant to be a gesture of comfort. It wasn’t.

“We have no choice!” Mark said.

“You _always_ have a choice!” Tom said.

“If we deny him hurting you two, then he’ll kill or torture ten more around here. For every person who escapes, he’ll kill three. This is how it is around here,” Elizabeth said.

“Then help us!” Evans said. “Rise against him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mark said, shaking his head.

“I never took either of you for cowards!” Evans spat.

Despite their behaviour, Tom found he couldn’t bring himself to feel anger towards them.

“No not cowards,” Tom said. “I’m sorry, Mark, that you have been placed in this situation. Lizzy too.”

Though Mark’s eyes swam with tears, Elizabeth’s were clear. There was a brittleness to her that had attracted Tom from the start, a determination that would always see her through the most desolate of circumstances. He was not the least surprised she had survived the apocalypse.

The vehicle slowed down.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to put these on you,” Mark said, holding up two pieces of cloth. “Blindfolds.”

Evans laughed. “What? We’re going to escape and tell our people your secrets?”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said.

Tom allowed the soft cloth over his eyes, the ensuing darkness. There was an odd comfort in not seeing, not being aware of where they were going or what was going to happen. He wasn’t even aware of the vehicle stopping.

“Alright, up we go!” Mark said, his tone genial.

An arm grasped him under his own and he was helped out of his car seat and onto a slippery road. Raindrops hit his torso and he shivered. A buzzing noise sounded and he was shuffled forward, now onto a smooth surface. A door banged behind him and the warmth of an interior enveloped his grateful flesh. The smooth surface continued, as he was walked forward, followed by another buzzer, a smoother surface, before he turned left. The buzzing sounded a third time.

“Take your blindfold off,” Mark said.

Tom removed the cloth. Evans stood beside him. They were, indeed, in a prison cell, consisting of one bunkbed, a sink and a toilet. Countless graffiti marred the walls, some of it crude but inventive. The one above the sink was not the most romantic poetry he had read in his life. Still, the inmate had managed to rhyme “licking” with “dicking”, so that was interesting.

“We will come for you later. Make yourselves at home,” Mark said.

All four people stood outside the cell, Mark, Elizabeth and Pratt held the same terrified expression. The fourth, dark-haired man’s visage was more difficult to read.

“Fuck you all! Seriously, fuck you all!” Evans said.

Without saying another word, they left, their footsteps pattered down the hall, away from them.

“I can’t believe this Tom! They were meant to be friends of ours!”

“People don’t act with their best of intentions, when they’re terrified,” Tom said.

“Why are they even here?” Evans asked. “So much for my plan, huh? You don’t need to say it. I am the biggest damned idiot.”

Tom saw no point in arguing with him.

“What’s done is done. We have to figure out what we can do next.”

*

They came back two hours later. In that time, Evans and Tom sat on the bunk bed next to each other, coming up with, and discarding plans to get out of their current predicament.

“We’re sorry, we’re going to have to split you two up, for a while,” Mark said.

“No!” Evans gripped Tom’s wrist.

“I promise, we’re not going to do anything. We just want to show Chris something,” Elizabeth said.

“Take me too,” Tom insisted.

“He’ll tell you what he saw when we take him back,” Mark said. “Please… we promise. We promise.”

“I always considered you to be the sweetest man,” Evans said, to Mark. “How mistaken I was.”

The dark-haired man stepped forward. “You are to go with Mark and Elizabeth, Chris, now. Don’t make me ask you again.”

“Come on, Frank, this is ridiculous!” Evans said. “You see through all of this. I know you do!”

“Don’t make me ask you again,” the dark-haired repeated.

“Ridiculous!” Evans murmured but let go of Tom’s wrist and stood up. Tom also stood. The door buzzed open and Evans stepped out. The door closed again and Evans reached through the bars and reached for Tom’s hand. Tom reached back and squeezed Chris’s hand in his.

“We’ll bring him back, we promise,” Mark said, to Tom.

“It’s ok-“ Elizabeth also went to grab Tom’s hand but he snatched it back. Her gentle features momentarily twitched with despondence and then cleared. “We go,” Elizabeth, Mark and Evans moved down the corridor, leaving Pratt and Frank, to stare into the cell at Tom.

“Tom? My name is Frank,” the cell door once more buzzed open and the dark-haired man stepped inside. “I worked with Chris and Sebastian on Winter Soldier.”

“I know! You were great. I love that film,” Tom had always found compliments to be a quick way to charm people. In order to extract himself from the situation, he would have to use all of his wits, including attempting to sway the others from their intended course of action.

Frank tilted his head, squinting, as though battling an unpleasant concept, in his brain.

“Chris, leave us.”

“Excuse me?” Pratt, who had been standing in the corridor staring into space, with a vacant expression, blinked.

“Leave us alone.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Pratt said, folding his arms.

“You remember what our Leader said, about what he wanted us to do to Tom?”

Tom’s heart stuttered.

_What?_

“No, no we’re not going to do that,” Pratt’s face twisted with disgust.

“ _You’re_ not. Of course not. No balls whatsoever.”

“Listen, asshole! We’re not going to rape anyone around here,” Pratt stormed into the cell, standing before Frank, with his fists clenched.

_Oh god…_

Tom’s entire system shook, his viscera jolting, flesh goosebumped, as though he had been drenched in ice cold water. Moaning, he dropped and curled up into a ball, using his fingers to claw along the concrete floor, in an attempt to edge himself away from his fate.

“No please please don’t please…”

If anyone tried to force him again, he would not be able to survive this time, he was certain. His mind would snap from overwrought trauma.

_OhgodpleaseIcan’tIcan’t…I can’t…_

“You’re willing to go against our Leader?” Soft fingers threaded through his hair, trailed down his back. “You’re cute, Tom. We’ll have fun together.”

Though Tom’s consciousness longed to scream in wretched agony, his larynx was constricted.

“Please don’t…” He whispered.

“It’s wrong… We can’t do this…” Pratt said.

“You know the penalty if we don’t. Give us fifteen minutes. I won’t take long.”

“You sick. Fucking. Bastard.”

For a moment, Tom was convinced Pratt would stop the inevitable from happening, that he would intervene in his sexual assault, but then footsteps sounded down the corridor and the door buzzed closed. Tom’s throat relaxed and he howled, his muscles so tense they were going to explode.

“Tom… listen to me carefully because we don’t have much time,” Frank said.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“Tom, look at me! I’m not going to- You need to look at me!”

As though Frank was holding a string, Tom’s head moved up, to face him. The man’s broad features were suffused with compassion. But Tom didn’t believe it. He wasn’t going to be fooled again.

_I guess, if it has to be this way, maybe it doesn’t have to hurt._

“Please…use protection and… use lube…”

Frank’s face crinkled in revulsion.

“I’m not going to do it. I had to… I have a reputation around here for being aggressive. I have no idea where it came from. I like to think I'm pretty docile. Regardless, I’ve used this reputation to my advantage, carefully cultivated this persona, for protection against them. Against _him_. Tom, he knows your greatest fear is to be raped. That was the order. If the others believe I did it no one else will, understand? I’ll make it clear you’re mine, that I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

“I don’t understand,” Tom said, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

_Jeremy talked beforehand as well. I wish he’d just get it over with._

“You were raped in the past?” Frank grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get you out of here, ok? I’ll make sure no one hurts you and I’ll get you out.”

“I’m not leaving without Chris,” Tom sized him up and down. “You’re not going to…? You mean it?”

“No! Oh god, no! I’m doing this to protect you from being assaulted. Same with Chris. Mark and I are working together.”

“Mark?”

“We’re hoping to bring down our leader, from the inside.”

Tom breathed out all of the tension in his body. Their leader had been correct, in asserting his worst fear.

_Oh thank you god, I’m safe. He isn’t going to rape me._

With still shaky legs, Tom rose, wiping his face free of tears.

“He appears in our dreams, or as illusions,” Frank said. “No one has seen his true form. Because he appears different to all of us. But he has a true form. He’d have to. Even Pratt, whose been up to his penthouse suite, has only seen the illusion.”

“What do they want to do to Chris?” Tom dug his nails into his palms.

“His greatest fear… losing control. That means killing you first. Killing anyone he cares for. But I’m getting you out, before then. Believe me.”

“Mark is secretly plotting. That sounds more like my old friend. He wouldn’t willingly convert to this… whatever this thing is.”

“No, he-“

Footsteps sounded down the hall.

“Quick, lie on the bed and pull down your trousers. We have to make it look genuine.”

Tom stiffened.

“No, I can’t-“

“You’ll have to!”

Tom did as he requested, lying prone on the bed and pulling his trousers and boxers to his knees. The shamed tears were genuine and he averted his head from the door.

“You’re back too soon!” Frank said. “Doesn’t matter, I’m done.”

With trembling hands, Tom pulled his pants up and buttoned them.

“You are one sick son of a bitch!” Pratt said, as Tom sat himself up.

Frank sat beside him and loped an arm around his shoulder. “Can you please inform the others he is mine? My bitch. Anyone else who even tries touching him will have to go through me.”

Pratt shook his head. “What has my life come to? What the fuck am I doing?”

More footsteps sounded down the corridor. Three pairs. Frank stood, as pale faced, trembling Evans entered the cell, flanked by steely-eyed Elizabeth and despondant Mark. Tom noticed the glimpse between Mark and Frank, confirming their partnership.

“Chris?” Tom came over and helped him down to sit beside him on the bed. “What happened?” He rubbed his back.

“We’d better go,” Mark said. “We’ll see you again soon.”

“Chris?” Tom asked, as the cell slammed shut again, leaving them alone, as the others moved away from them down the corridor.

Evans placed his head in his hands and wept.

“Chris…” He placed his arm around his back.

“Samuel L… he survived the apocalypse…someone killed him! He was strung up on a pole. His throat had been slit. There was so much blood.”

_Oh no, Sam. I’m so sorry._

“That’s awful. Truly awful.”

Tom understood why this particular travesty had occurred. For Mark. For Elizabeth. For Pratt. For Frank, too. To keep them in line, show them the result of any infractions.

“I’m so sorry, Tom. I’m sorry I took us to this awful place.”

Footsteps came down the corridor.

“Oh, what now?” Evans moaned.

This time, only Mark, Pratt and Frank came into view, behind the jail bars.

“We need to see Evans again,” Pratt said. “The leader has something to show him.”

“What if he refuses?” Tom asked.

“It would be best if he didn’t,” Mark said.

Evan’s pale ocean blue eyes were stark with fear. “Better go,” he said, clutching onto Tom’s shoulder. For a moment, he was certain he wouldn’t let go. But then his hand moved away and, as the cell door buzzed open, he followed Mark and Pratt out, as Frank stepped in.

“I’ll stay here.”

A line deepened on Chris’s forehead, his eyes moving from Frank, to Tom.

A voice sounded, emanating from Pratt. Tom’s father. Only it wasn’t his father. The others would, no doubt, hear a different voice.

Tom’s mouth gaped in a silent scream, his larynx too petrified to force the sound out.

_It’s him. Somehow, he’s possessed Chris. How is this even possible?_

“There you are, Mark! We don’t have to take Chris anywhere, to show him the surprise. I thought I’d show him, show Tom too, what I do to traitors. I’m talking specifically about Mark.”

Mark gasped, ran to the door ran back to the cell and then spun around, his face set in childlike confusion and naivety.

“Behold! My powers- No!” Pratt’s own voice momentarily came out of his mouth and he fumbled for his weapon. The hand froze, before he jumped forward, grabbed Mark’s head and twisted it around to the right. Tom cried out in abject horror, as Mark’s neck snapped with a sickening crunch, before Pratt dropped him to the concrete floor, where Mark stared back at him, at an impossible angle, his head facing backwards.

“No, no no no no no!” Evans shouted, hyperventilating. Though he was aware he should go to him, Tom couldn’t divert his attention away from the sightless brown irises, once brimming with good humour and warmth.

_How can this be real?_

Pratt looked down at what he had done and screamed, tearing at his cheeks with his finger nails.

“Oh my god!” He reached into his holster and pulled out his weapon, placed it to his temple and pulled the trigger.

No one moved. Chris continued to hyperventilate in the corner. Rushing footsteps sounded. Elizabeth ran into the room and screamed, collapsing to her knees, as she saw the two dead bodies.

“Oh my god…” Tom whispered. _This can’t have happened._

Frank stood. “We need to clean these bodies up. Hey,” he clicked his fingers in front of the vacant Elizabeth’s eyes. “On your feet. We’ll get someone to clean this up.”

*

“Moon River…” Tom crooned to Chris the only song that came to his mind. The bodies had been cleaned and taken away but Chris still held his glass-eyed stare. He gripped onto Tom’s arm, as though it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. No, not true. He suspected Chris’s arm was the only thing keeping _himself_ tethered to reality.

“We’re next. How do we know _he_ can’t possess any one of us at any time?” Chris asked.

“Doesn’t work that way,” Elizabeth’s voice sounded. Both Tom and Chris jumped. Frank came in behind her. “Chris was in close proximity with him earlier today. As in his residence, at the penthouse suite of the Intercontinental. That’s where he lives. The real him. That may have been where he possessed Chris,” The door buzzed open and she came in. Tom noticed she held two glasses of water in her hands. “You two must be thirsty.”

Chris shook his head.

“Tom?” Elizabeth asked.

Tom tentatively took the glass off her.

“It’s alright. It’s just water. We’re not going to kill you, Tom. It wouldn’t give _him_ the pleasure.”

Tom took a sip, his parched throat needing more, so he downed the entire glass in one sitting. Instantly, his vision blurred, his brain fogged over. He gripped at Evans, his heart pounding, attempting desperately to bring much needed oxygen to the starved organ.

“What is this? What have you done?” Chris shouted. “Tom?” A hand shook him. Tom pushed him off, went to walk to the door but then sprawled to the ground.

“We’re giving you what you want,” Elizabeth said. “With Mark gone, what do we have to lose? We’ve wanted that asshole dead ever since he’s blighted this town with his appearance here. There’s no turning back now.”

Tom’s vision darkened.

“You’re… helping me?” Chris asked. “Is this a trick?”

“I’ll drive Tom out of town,” Frank said. “Take him out as far as I can. He’ll be safe, Chris. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

*

Tom came to, to soft material under his cheek, a voice in his ear, becoming louder.

“You’re alright. You’ll be safe here, for now.”

Tom mumbled, blinked, turning his head, to Frank’s face, peering down at him, through a car window.

“Where am I?”

“On the outskirts of Ontario. This is as far as I go. I took the bodies out of this car and put you inside. You’ll sleep off the sedative tonight. Should be safe in the car.”

*

When Tom came too again, the first rays of sunlight were peering through the window. He shivered, pulling his coat closer around himself, before stumbling out of the vehicle. The air was still crisp. Disorientated, he walked down the road, and trotted, before running, invigorated to experience the pumping of his muscles, the blaze of his breath coming in and out of his inflating and deflating lungs. In running, he could forget about the horrific deaths of Mark and Pratt, or the fact he was now away from Evans, had no way of determining what horrors were happening to him. How was he going to go back to Los Angeles? Or back to Montgomery, to his beloved Robert?

His legs pumped harder, as he jumped over a muddy puddle. It had, indeed, rained heavily throughout the night, but he had slept through it. Sedatives in the water. What crafty devils!

_Yes, Chris must have organised-_

He skidded, landing heavily on his behind.

Frank was strung up dead on the pole before him. They must have caught him on the way back to Los Angeles. His vehicle was nowhere to be found. For a long moment, he couldn’t focus away from the corpse of the man who had done all he could, to help him. He drew his concentration away, to the area surrounding.

A tent had been set up by the side of the road. Tom blinked. The mirage remained.

“Robert is here, Tom,” Jeremy’s voice sounded beside him.

Tom stood.

“Go around the tent and you’ll see. He is here.”

Tom carefully stepped around the tent. Though his back was to him, there was no doubting who sat on the ground. He had studied Robert from afar for years, then up close, post apocalypse. Inwardly screaming with joy, Tom rushed forward.

“Robert! Robert! Oh my god it’s you! It’s you! I came upon poor Frank, then I saw the tent and-“

Robert turned. Yes, this was him. There was no mistaking the aquiline nose, the strong jaw, the doe brown eyes. Tom’s heart raced, as butterflies pounded against his stomach walls.

“I knew you’d try find us!” Robert’s lips were dry but, as ever, succulent. “I’m so fucking happy to see you!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear. Sounds cute and antiquated, coming from you.”

Yes, this was Robert, alright.

“I’m sorry, Robert. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Robert’s hands were then on him, warm, needed. Robert’s kisses were even more needed.

“You’re really here!”

“Of course I’m here!” Tom laughed.

He was with Robert again. Although there was still the problem of locating Evans, he was with Robert and all was fine.

_And where is Sebastian?_

“You’re here and you’re alright,” Robert said.

“I’m alright, Robert. Poor Frank. Poor poor Frank. He tried to help-“ Tom looked down, noticing the ugly bulge to the right side of Robert’s foot. “Oh no! Have you fractured your ankle?”

Instead of answering, Robert kissed him, and drew him in, to a much-needed embrace.

“Don’t you ever leave me again!” Robert demanded.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Tom whispered. “We have so much to tell each other. But, can we embrace, for as long as humanly possible?”

“I’m more than happy to do that,” Robert said, reaching a hand up to run through his hair, as he drew him forward, for a needed kiss, once more. “Don’t,” he kissed Tom’s nose. “leave,” he kissed his lips. “Me,” he kissed his cheeks. “Again,” he kissed his lips again.

Tom curved a hand along Robert’s jaw. “I’m safe. You're safe, bar a nasty ankle fracture by the looks. Chris is alive. They organised for me to be drugged, to get me out of the way so I wasn’t hurt while he carried out his insane plan.”

“Sebastian came with me, to save Chris. He’s gone on to Los Angeles.”

“Do you think they’ll both make it out alive?” Tom asked, shuddering.

Robert rested his forehead against Tom’s. “At this stage, we can only pray they do.”

Tbc…


	13. Sebastian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the big climax, followed by an epilogue.  
> Thanks to all who have followed so far :)

“It’s okay, Sebastian. You will see Robert again. I promise.”

Sebastian closed his eyelids, leaning his head against the car window. His guilt over leaving Robert must be intense, indeed, if he was hallucinating Anthony’s calm voice. After all, when was the always energetic Anthony ever calm?

“So, I’m not allowed to have growth in the afterlife?” The voice said.

_You’re not real. I wish you were. But you’re dead._

“Now, you know that’s not true. I’m as real as they come.”

Sebastian glanced across, to Danai beside himself, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her fingertips were tinged white, her lips pursed in concentration. She believed she could kill the man they had heard so much about but weren’t even sure existed. Sebastian no longer cared. His only concern was to locate Chris and Tom and get them out.

“No, no just Chris. Tom’s already out. He’s with Robert right now, being disgustingly cute together,” Anthony’s voice sounded in his ear, once more.

“We’re getting close now,” Danai said.

Sebastian glanced out the window, at the houses growing closer together, as they travelled further into the urban area. No soul could be seen. His abdomen clenched, twisting around itself.

_Where is everyone?_

They silently drove further inward, away from the outer suburbs, towards the main concrete jungle of the main city. Now, figures wandered the streets. Sebastian stared out the window, his mouth agape.

People.

Alive human beings.

None of the people were surprised by the car in their midst. A blonde woman and her redheaded partner even waved as they drove past.

“People! People everywhere…” The tight coil of his abdomen released, to be filled with excited butterflies, which careened around his inner visceral walls.

“We need a disguise. Don’t want to be recognised. I brought along a couple of hooded cloaks in my bag,” Danai said.

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Sebastian asked, bemused.

The crowd of people grew thicker.

“Where are they all headed?” Dania asked.

“How are we going to find Chris and Tom in all this?” Sebastian frowned.

As they drove towards the centre of town, the crowd became a monsoon. Danai had now slowed to twenty miles per hour. Though people were doing their best stay out of way of the car, it was becoming difficult to progress further. Sebastian glanced in the back mirror, noticing other slow-moving vehicles attempting to make their way through.

_From being in a town of less than five hundred people, to double that amount in the street at once. This is incredible!_

“This is stunning,” Sebastian said.

“And worrying. If this man is what we think he is, why did so many go _here_ to stay with him?” Danai asked.

Sebastian considered the ramifications of her question. The country he had settled down in, made a great life in, now divided between good and bad people. No, he refused to believe it. The human race was complicated. No one person was ever entirely good or bad. Not even the outliers as James or Jeremy.

A blond man thumped the car’s boot. Another woman kicked the back door as she passed. The tension of the crowd having to clear the way for their vehicle was palpable.

“It’s impossible,” Sebastian said. “You’ll have to pull over.”

Danai did as he requested, steering to the side of the road and switching off the ignition. Half a dozen people streaming past peered into their vehicle with interest but did not recognise them, so kept walking. Danai reached behind herself and pulled out her bag, digging through it and pulling out two hooded grey cloaks, handing one to Sebastian.

“You find Chris and Tom and them out,” she said.

“What about you?” Sebastian asked.

“Don’t worry about me. I have my own plan, here. Sorry, Sebastian, that doesn’t involve you.”

_And there it is._

Sebastian glanced back at her bag, catching the glint of silver.

“I’m not going to leave you here! That’s ridiculous.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said and stepped out of the vehicle, flinging the bag over her shoulder and shoving her hood over her head. Still grimacing, Sebastian came out beside her.

“Danai-“

“Do what you came here to do. Get them out,” she ordered.

There was no argument in the determined clench of her jaw, her stoic, straight-backed stance. Accepting Danai’s desire to implement her own tactic, Sebastian pulled the hood up over his head to cover his face, and walked alongside her, keeping with the horde.

 “How am I going to find them in this crowd?”

“Keep looking, they have to be here somewhere,” she whispered.

As they continued moving through the swarm of people, headed towards the centre of the city, past blocky concrete buildings, Sebastian found himself momentarily swept off his feet a good twenty metres. He cried out in shock, managed to find his feet again and spun around, looking back towards Danai. His heart thumped hard against his ribcage.

_Where is she?_

The crowd surged past him, jostling him, a few knocking him back.

“Danai?” He cried out. His heart now beat a frantic tattoo. How could he have lost her? They were just walking next to each other!

The crowd continued to straggle forward and Sebastian, in despair as to what else to do, went with them. There were hundreds, perhaps even thousands of people travelling down the same road. He wasn’t sure how to locate Danai. Moreover, Chris and Tom would be impossible to find. Where were they heading? What was going on?

Sebastian noted that the crowd was now turning north-west. The landmarks around him were becoming familiar, the white stone of the Los Angeles City Hall, the post-modern aesthetic of the Our Lady of the Angels Cathedral. Before they reached the stadium, he’d already worked out where they were headed. The crowd filed into all entrances of the impressive ballpark. Sebastian went in through the south-east entrance, walking with the crowd down the stall steps, to the bottom. He was so distracted by concentrating on not falling and potentially being trampled, he didn’t notice the stage, at first. When he did, he stopped so suddenly that a group of people ran into him from behind, and each proceeded to swear at him, as they stepped past his stilled frame.

The stage was simple, a wooden platform, a metre off the ground, erected in the middle of the field.  In the centre of this platform, two crosses were hoisted a further two metres up into the air, with two figures hanging from them, with their arms outstretched, their feet tied to a smaller plank of wood. Sebastian rushed forward down the steps of the seated area, pushing through people as he went. He ran onto the field, where hundreds of people were already gathered, to jeer the ‘entertainment’. Sebastian knocked people aside as he approached the construct, not wanting to believe what his mind was telling him.

Chris was one of the hanging figures.

Sebastian’s muscles once again locked, his left foot hanging in the air, mid-step. Though Chris’s head lolled, the rise of his chest signalled he was still alive, for now. His clothes were clean and he bore no obvious injuries. Relief at finding Chris alive intermingled with fear for what was going to happen to him.

_It's okay, okay okay. We’ll work something out. I’m going to save you, or die trying._

It took active effort to move his attention off his lover, to the one on the cross beside him. He had expected this person to be Tom. More perplexing, the woman hanging beside him, staring with an expression of victory into the crowd, was one he had only met a few times. Elizabeth. Lizzy, as Tom called her. Tom had been close with her. More than close. Where was he?

_No matter. Find Tom later. First, you need to rescue Chris._

Sebastian bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. He had to find a way to release Chris, but it was impossible, in front of such a large group of people. Where was Danai? She must be somewhere in the crowd. But where?

An electrical charge zapped through the air, frizzing his hair up. Sebastian scanned around himself, in an attempt to locate the source. The temperature dropped and he pulled the cloak tighter around his shivering frame against a sudden icy wind. A heavy pall permeated the atmosphere, the sky darkening, casting long shadows of the crosses onto the wilting grass. He noticed others around him also looking around. Elizabeth laughed, the sound deranged, unlike her usual sweet titter.

“He’s coming. Our _wonderful_ leader. Aren’t you all happy?”

Chris’s head sprang up. Viewing his boyfriend’s lovely face, Sebastian resisted the urge to run onto the stage, to cover his body with his own and his fearful features with comforting kisses. But no, he told himself he had to be careful and smart, if they were both to survive.

“Why are you all terrified?” Elizabeth laughed.

A figure appeared on the stage, between Chris and Elizabeth, initially fuzzy, as though he had no substance. From their excited rumble of chatter and shouts, the audience went silent, as though all simultaneously muted. Even the thrill of the wind had died down, as though in reverence. Sebastian’s chest heaved.

_Here we go._

The figure took form, from blurred to clear, as one sees when looking through an adjusting viewfinder of a camera. An identical of Chris stood between the bound one on the stage and Elizabeth, with a microphone in hand. Sebastian’s heart disappeared into his stomach. This was the _man_ but not the man’s true form. What he saw was an illusion before himself, his own desires twisted back at him. Chris’s eyes flicked towards the man and then hung his head low. Elizabeth’s cool blue irises stayed on the Chris’s doppelganger. Sebastian was curious as to how the man appeared for them. Each audience member, theoretically would see a different person, would never discover the truth as to who or what this man was.

“Wonderful to see you all turn up, tonight,” Doppelganger Chris said. “You may be wondering why I have invited you all here. It’s because we had traitors in our midst. People who wished to bring down the peace we have been establishing here.”

“Peace?” Elizabeth laughed. “That’s a joke. What’s peaceful about mass executions? Killing people trying to leave?”

“My dear child,” Doppelganger Chris said, with a fake honeyed tone uncharacteristic of Sebastian’s real lover. “You’ve believed the propaganda fed to you by the others across the way. People like Chris and Tom. Yes, I know about Tom. I know Frank attempted to betray us, by taking Tom out of here, before I got the chance to speak to him. But Frank was captured, on the way back. I’m afraid to tell you he’s dead. As is Tom.”

“No! No that’s not true!” Chris said.

Sebastian closed his eyes, his heart spasming at the man’s poisonous words.

_No, please don’t let it be true._

“Afraid so,” Doppelganger Chris said to the other, smiling so wide every one of his teeth showed. “Your talented former Loki is now carrion fodder, left naked, violated and dying in the desert.”

A ripple moved through the people watching, at this news, as they gasped and whispered to each other. A few others cheered, laughed and jeered.

“Violated repeatedly before he was left to die of his injuries,” Doppelganger Chris smirked.

“That isn’t true!” Elizabeth’s voice wavered.

“Do I sense guilt?” Doppelganger Chris stepped over to her. “You were integral to the capture of your former flame. It’s because of you that he suffered. He cursed you, in the end. Cursed you both.”

“He would never,” Elizabeth said.

“Begged for death. The ones violating him just laughed.”

“Shut up!” Elizabeth shouted.

Doppelganger Chris laughed, the sound goosepimpling Sebastian’s arms. There was no emotion in the noise, none of _his_ Chris’s carefree joy and good humour.

“I know your plans. You were both planning to kill me. You can’t! I am eternal. I can’t die!” Doppelganger Chris reached up and touched the side of Elizabeth’s face. “I can make both of you feel pain unlike you’ve ever experienced.”

Elizabeth’s pained screams rose up into the darkened sky, her body convulsing, head slamming back against the wood. More murmurs, gasps and cries of horror filled the air, from those watching, overcoming the ones jeering and laughing.

“Stop!” Chris screamed. “Please, stop!”

Doppelganger Chris removed his hand and Elizabeth went slack, her head lolling. Sebastian let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding in.

 “I have gathered you all here today, to show you what I do to anyone who plans to go against me,” Doppelganger Chris stepped forward, towards his people. “You will all stay, observe. Their deaths will be slow, painful.”

“This is not the society we have envisioned for ourselves!” Chris shouted. “We’re Americans, aren’t we? Is this the society we want? To torture others on a field? To execute people and hang them up on poles?”

Doppelganger Chris stepped up to him and placed his hand against his face. In response, Chris flung his head back and screamed in agony, the tendons visible in his neck.

“No!” Without considering consequences, only knowing he had to get to Chris, to stop him from being tortured, Sebastian rushed to the stage, throwing aside people as he went. “Don’t you touch him!” He bound up the steps to the wooden platform, almost tripping at the top, before righting himself.

“Oh, there he is, delightful!” Doppelganger Chris stepped across and hoisted Sebastian up by the neck. ‘Why, hello there Sebastian! I was waiting for you!” He said, as Sebastian clutched at the hand around his throat, attempting in vain to tear it free. The man’s flesh was soft, as his partner’s, but much colder. Sebastian looked down into the doppelganger’s face and stopped struggling, as dark blue irises stared back at him. Not Chris’s irises. No, Chris was merely a human man in his mid-thirties.

Upon seeing his partner rush the stage, Chris’s screams were of pure terror, beyond his anguished pain while he was being tortured.

“No, Seb! No! Please don’t hurt him! Please!”

This creature was far older. Sebastian read eons of time in the irises before him, a constant birth and death cycle, destruction and rebirth.

“What’s your greatest fear, Sebastian?” The creature’s voice was honey poured over chocolate.

“I know yours,” Elizabeth said.

“It should be me!” Danai rushing the stage, with her sword drawn, forced Sebastian away from his compulsion to delve deeper into the irises before him, the colour of a stormy ocean, to discover the truth of this creature. A name filtered through his mind, too quick to catch. “You’re not Chadwick. You’re an illusion of him.”

“Oh, this is hilarious!” Doppelganger Chris laughed. “And fortunate. I get to kill all of you at once.”

“No, _I_ get to kill you!” Danai charged.

The meteorologists had said for years the big one would hit California one day. Everyone was so aware of the possibility that they’d even made a passable Dwayne Johnston film about the concept.

The earth decided that particular moment was a good one to create a gigantic seismic wave.

The earth rumbled, jolting up and down. Panic ensued through the crowd, as a large tremor hit the stadium, slamming everyone to the ground, including Sebastian, who fell out of the Man’s grasp. Danai also fell forward, the sword clattering out of her reach.

“I know how to destroy you!” Elizabeth said, as a massive tremor hit the area once more. People again screamed. A split appeared in the seats midway up the south-west quadrant of the stands, as though a giant pair of scissors had sliced them straight in the middle, before moving down the ensuing seats below, splintering plastic and concrete as it went, and continuing along the ground, kicking up grass and dirt in its wake. Sebastian could only stare in shock, as the seats at the centre of the crack collapsed in on themselves, taking screaming people, still walking onto the field, down with them. The ground was still shuddering, throwing people into each other. Sebastian saw one man go under a stampede of people and not come up again, his hand beseeching forward, before laying flat on the ground. No one was interested in the ‘entertainment’ any more, that was clear.

“I know your real name! If I say it, the real you will reveal itself!”  Elizabeth shouted.

The earth continued to rumble, the wooden floorboards swaying, before Elizabeth and Chris toppled backwards on their crosses, slamming hard into the trembling stadium ground and narrowly avoiding being trampled by the people around them.

“It’s Lil-“ Elizabeth shouted. Doppelganger Chris grasped Danai’s sword from the ground, walked over to Elizabeth and stabbed her once in the chest. A triumphant grin froze on her dying mouth.

“Damn you, bitch!” Doppelganger Chris stabbed her dead, smiling corpse again and turned to Chris. Without considering the consequences, Sebastian jumped onto him, covering his body with his own, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for the inevitable. At least they would die together. However, fate decided otherwise, as the earth’s tremors, combined with Sebastian’s weight, slammed them sideways off the now splintered wood, breaking Chris free of his bonds.

Doppelganger Chris had fallen down, the sword clattering from his hands. Danai swooped over and picked it up.

Inspiration came to Sebastian. He comprehended what Elizabeth was going to say. In the recesses of his mind, he recalled a bible story he had been taught, far back in his homeland of Romania. Adam’s first wife, before Eve. A temptress demon. It was ridiculous. Too unreal.

_Maybe it is, but you still need to say the name._

Sebastian grasped Chris and pulled him up. As both stood, he turned to the doppelganger.

“Lilith,” he said.

The form changed, turned into a beautiful woman with long flowing dark hair, black wings and bird feet. Danai’s sword slammed into the woman’s chest and she shrieked, the noise a mixture between a lion’s roar, a bird’s call and a wolf howl. The creature, Lilith, fell down to the still shaking ground and exploded to dust. Danai let out a terrible shriek of delight, before she was grabbed by the stunned people who were still around to witness their leader's transformation, the sword thrown away from her, before she was beaten, pummelled, slapped and kicked, in their blood lust frenzy.

“No!” Still holding Chris up, Sebastian ran forward, in an attempt to save her. A blonde woman grabbed the sword and stabbed it into her back and she went still.

“No! Oh god no!” Chris shouted.

Once they realised they were beating a dead woman the crowd lost interest, moving away from her. Sebastian told himself he should be horrified at her loss. There would come a time, in the future, where he would be. Now, however, his sole priority was Chris. Keeping them both alive.

“Go! You two need to run! Now!” Anthony’s voice sounded in Sebastian’s mind. With his arms still around the trembling Chris, they ran towards the exit, in the direction of the crowd.

“No! Get high! Get high!” Anthony shouted.

“We need to get high!” Sebastian shouted.

“You’re here, Seb! You’re here!” Chris kissed his cheek, ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m-“

“Apologise later. We need to get to high ground!” They reached the seating opposite the side that had cracked open and clambered up the steps of the stall.

“Is this safe? What if it comes down too!” Chris asked.

“I just know we have to get high!” With his arms around Chris’s shoulders, Sebastian scrambled over the seats, moving as fast as he could without tripping, not looking back, not considering the fire in his breath, the frantic jolting of his overwrought lungs, not stopping, until they reached the furthermost tip of the stadium seats. The rumbling had stopped and they risked looking down, at the fleeing crowd. None of the others had followed them.

“You’re here!” Chris grasped Sebastian by the back of the neck and pulled him forward for a satisfying kiss.

“You are the biggest asshole, Chris! Leaving me, worrying me!”

“I’m sorry!” Chris kissed his lips, ran a hand through his hair. “I’m an asshole! A jerk!”

“And then some!”

“I’m so glad to see you, Seb.”

“You’re okay? They didn’t do anything to you?” Sebastian asked, his throat seizing.

Chris shook his head and life replenishing oxygen entered Sebastian's lungs, once more.

“And Tom?”

“He’s not here. He got out. She was lying. Trying got make us despair. Oh Seb, I’m so- What’s that?”

Sebastian caught it too. From the air being unnaturally quiet, a new sound emerged, hissing, followed by a tumultuous roar. Screaming accompanied the catastrophic noise.

“What _is_ that?” Chris asked, gripping Sebastian’s shoulders and pulling him to him.

Sebastian stared down at the ground far below, to a sight that bulged his eyes. A veritable wall of water was rushing along the ground, taking not only people but trees, cars, debris, everything in its wake.

“Tsunami!” He gasped.

“Oh my god,” Chris said.

He tilted Chris’s chin up, so he gazed into his summer blue irises.

“If this is the end of us, I don’t want to be anywhere else, than here, with you.”

As the water raged below them, ferocious in its destructive power, they pressed lips and tongues together, holding each other, for what they both were convinced would be the last time.

Only, after some time, it became apparent they were, indeed, safe in the stand. The water gushed past the solid structure but did not bring it down. Chris and Sebastian pulled apart and looked down again. The water was slowing now, tiring in its fury.

“We’re alive,” Sebastian said.

“So many didn’t make it,” Chris said. “So many…”

“But we’re alive,” Sebastian cupped his chiselled jaw. “Now we’ve survived so much, I’m planning for us to stay that way.”

*

They stayed huddled, telling each other their stories, for hours after the water retreated, before standing and making their way out of the stadium. In its wake, the tsunami had wrought devastation of the most tragic kind. Bodies were trampled and fractured, black and blue with bruises. Despite the horror around them, Sebastian and Chris had no response, could no longer experience terror. Danai’s body had disappeared, washed away, as with so many other the others. They had experienced too much now, to be surprised by each new jolt of horrible sights.

They discovered the Maserati as they were walking out of town. Parked on the road and untouched, as though it had been left there specifically for them. The keys were in the ignition.

“Robert would love this!” Chris said.

“ _Will_. He’ll be okay, Chris. We go to him, now.” Sebastian threw him the keys.

*

The two men sat by the side of the road, the taller man behind, with his arm around the dark-haired man’s chest, as he whispered into his ear. The dark-haired man laughed. As the car pulled up alongside them, the taller man stood, and walked over to the Maserati.

“Nice car there,” Tom said evenly, into the driver’s side open window.

With his mouth unhinged, Chris flung open the driver’s side door, clambered out and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“You’re ok. Thank god. Thank god.”

“Frank and Rene weren’t so lucky,” Tom pointed upwards and Sebastian, who had stepped out from the passenger’s doorway, glanced up at the corpse hanging from the light fixture.

 "Oh no! Frank! He deserved better," Chris said.

“So did Elizabeth and Danai,” Sebastian tore his eyes away from the offending sight of Frank's corpse.

“She told me they’d killed you Tom," Chris said. "I refused to believe it.”

“She?”

“Turns out _he_ was a she. Lilith.”

“Lilith? The first woman?” Tom’s pale eyes widened. “From the Babylonian Talmud?”

“We have a lot to catch up on,” Sebastian said as, beside him, Chris hugged Robert.

“My gorgeous man is so intelligent, puts me to shame,” Robert’s smile turned into a grimace, as he placed too much weight on his injured foot.

“We’ll take you to a nearby town, away from here, try pick up supplies for you fracture,” Chris said.

*

Another motel room, ten miles outside Phoenix. This time, while Robert and Sebastian stayed in the car, Tom and Chris checked the rooms for bodies. They were fortunate, in that the first adjoining two they went into were empty.

Robert now sat on the bed, his legs outstretched and raised. Chris, who had first aid experience, had rebandaged the foot and leg, for better compression. The group had also purloined antibiotics and anti-inflammatories from the local chemist. Sebastian had been tempted to add Xanax, to help with their combined distress, but ultimately decided against it. Better to work through their angst without using pharmaceutical aid, for now. Robert had taken codeine off the shelf and taken two for his pain. Tom sat beside him, his arm around Robert’s waist. Chris and Sebastian sat on the edge of the single bed opposite, Chris’s hand drawing circles on Sebastian’s thigh. Sebastian, in turn, rubbed his own hand on the small of Chris’s back.

“We’re all alive… We survived all of this and my mind is still,” Chris placed his fingers at his temple and flew them out in a ‘mind blown’ gesture.

“Do you think she really is dead? Lilith?” Tom asked.

“We can’t say one hundred percent. But yes, I believe she is,” Chris replied.

“Poor Lizzy. And Danai. Frank. Rene. They all suffered and died but, yes, we survived. Why us, when so many didn’t?” Tom asked.

“None of this survivor guilt nonsense,” Robert said, kissing his neck. “It’s exhausting.”

Sebastian recalled Anthony’s voice, guiding them to the top of the stadium, where they would be safe. Could it really have been him? In Tom’s recollection of his journey, he had said Jeremy had been the one to guide him to Robert. Was it their mind, or did their friends live on, were able to help them beyond the grave?

_Why is that so hard to believe? You just saw an ancient demon with wings! Anything, at this point, is possible._

“You drifted away there, Seb,” Chris said, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I was thinking, with hearing Anthony’s voice in my mind, telling us to reach high ground. I don’t know if it was real or not.”

“With Jeremy, too. I’m now believing… yes, it was real. It was them,” Tom said.

“I hope not,” Robert said. “It doesn’t give me the warm and fuzzies to find out Jeremy is still harassing you, from the beyond the grave.”

“Not harassing…He wanted me to forgive him.”

Robert gave a grunt of displeasure.

“Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve it,” Chris said.

“Forgiveness is to do with the person forgiving, so they can move on,” Tom said. “It’ so difficult… I want to, in my heart, I long to forgive and move on. Maybe one day I can. I hope so…”

Sebastian considered the notion of forgiveness. He believed it was necessary for humans, but was also one of the most difficult concepts for them to process. In particular, he understood that the hardest forgiveness was of the self. He gazed at the familiar, well-loved visage of the man beside him. Despite Chris leaving him, despite all he had put him through, he had forgiven him the moment he saw him, strung up on the cross. He loved him too much not to.

“I love you,” Sebastian said.

Chris swung his head to face him, his answer in his smile. “I love you too.”

They touched lips, their swirling tongues both warming and electrifying.

“That’s hot… But it’s also like watching my parents kiss,” Robert said.

“Thanks, Robert, that’s great,” Chris said, drawing apart from Sebastian.

*

“Yes… oh fuck…” Sebastian moved his body up and down, relishing in the hardness slamming into his tight heat. Chris lay on his back below him, gripping his hips and staring up at him, ocean blue eyes following every whimper, every groan, every encouragement. Sebastian thrust his body in a more frantic motion, the constant jab of Chris’s erection against his prostate spiralling dizzying ecstasy throughout his body. He wanted Chris to come, to cry out his name and fill him with his come.

“Come inside me, please, come inside me!”

“Oh Sebastian!”

Sebastian got his wish. Chris’s cheeks flushed pink as he groaned, the warmth of his come spurting inside him enough to send Sebastian up into the heights of passion. He moaned, his come spurting onto Chris’s chest, before collapsing onto him, allowing his partner to release from inside of him.

“The walls are thin. Wouldn’t be surprised if we woke up Robert and Tom,” Chris laughed.

The other two had left their room an hour before, to settle down next door. Within minutes, Sebastian and Chris had undressed and fallen onto the bed together.

“Robert’s heard us before. He’ll get over it,” Sebastian shrugged.

“Mmm… you’re lovely,” Chris said, nuzzling his neck.

“I plan to sleep, for a thousand hours,” Sebastian said.

“Sounds a great pan.”

*

Bedsprings squeaking. Loud moaning.

Sebastian opened his eyes. Chris’s chest was still warm against his cheek.

The bedsprings squeaked faster.

“This is karma, isn’t it?” Chris grumbled, stroking his hand down Sebastian’s back.

“You okay, beautiful? You want me to keep going?” Robert’s voice.

The noise, filtering through the thin walls grew more frenzied.

“How are they… with Robert’s fracture….?” Sebastian asked.

A loud scream of pleasure sounded, the squeaking now at an impossible rate.

“Tom that was… that was…” Robert’s voice. A soft giggle permeated underneath. Tom. “But you still need to come! What if it was in my mouth?”

“Would you think less of me if I were to tell you this is turning me on, listening to this?” Chris asked. “Despite the awkwardness?”

“It would be even more awkward if they have to listen to us go for round two,” Sebastian laughed.

In the room over, Tom’s moans filtered through the thin walls.

*

In the morning, as all four clambered into the Maserati, Tom’s awkward expression informed Sebastian that they had, indeed, overheard their lovemaking. Sebastian was aware that between him, Chris and Tom, they wouldn’t bring up their eavesdropping. Robert, however, had no such compunctions.

As soon as all four were seated in the vehicle, with him and Tom in the back and Sebastian and Chris in front, he spoke.

“I’m glad you two are so frisky but… dayam do you have to make sure all of the corpses around can be resurrected with the loudness of your lovemaking? Oh yes, we might have been trying to sleep too.”

“You two can talk!” Chris said, as he turned on the ignition.

Sebastian turned to face them. As he has suspected, Tom had buried his reddened face in Robert’s shoulder, in mortification. Robert shrugged, pulled him closer and kissed his curls.

“Not entirely true. Tom isn’t loud. But I am. Goes with the territory, with such a sexy gorgeous erotic partner. As you two have discovered.”

“Shut up, Robert,” Tom moaned.

Chris and Sebastian laughed and Sebastian turned back to face the front, as Chris switched on the ignition.

“But seriously, I’m so proud of you,” Robert said, to Tom. “You’ve come so far since…since we first saw you in Angola.”

“Without you three, I wouldn’t have made it. Thank you, all of you,” Tom said, with his typical sincerity.

“I’d say the same for you three,” Sebastian said. “The same for all of us. We all wouldn’t have made it without each other.”

“Yes, we’re all pretty damned fantastic,” Robert said. “Now, drive on, Chris. Hayley would have had her little bubs by now and I’m desperate to meet him or her.”

Yes, back to Montgomery, back to their little town of survivors. Sebastian was also desperate to see Hayley again. But then, perhaps they didn’t need to stay there. There were many places they could visit. Now, it was confirmed there had been more survivors, there was no end to the adventures they could have.

He reached over and squeezed Chris’s leg.

Chris was there beside him. No matter the horrors, and there had been plenty, he had all he wanted and needed, to help him through the difficult times ahead.

Tbc…

(Epilogue)


	14. Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have followed this crazy ride. :)

Gripping a cup of coffee in either hand, Robert’s feet pattered on the soft carpet. He was grateful for the calm waters outside and to not be colliding into the oak panelled walls, as he would have been enacting the stormy day before on the way to and from the different decks, had he not been hanging over his ensuite toilet. Once the meagre breakfast of toast and coffee was out of his system, his stomach had continued to convulse, bringing up bile. Throughout it all, even as the room lurched up and down with the topsy-turvy ocean, his always lovely, sweet Tom had knelt beside him, cooing to him and brushing back his hair, offering him water. At the time, Robert couldn’t decide whether he needed Tom to stay, or to go and leave him to his misery. No lovemaking was had that night. As it turned out, a day spent with bouts of vomiting was enough to make him fatigued that night. He had lain in bed, resting on his lover’s chest, stomach still queasy, as though determined to not believe the waters around them had calmed.

“How come you didn’t vomit up and entire week’s worth of meals?” Robert had asked.

“I don’t know. I’m glad I wasn’t also sea-sick. It would have been a lot worse, had we _both_ been fighting over the toilet,” Tom had answered, with a wry tone.

As he passed the main stateroom, the laughter of children tore him from his reminiscence of the day before. Robert moved back and stepped inside the doorway, placing the coffees on a nearby glass tabled surface, and coming straight over to Hayley, who was seated on one of the bright red suede lounge chairs, which, in Robert’s mind, destroyed the ambience of the otherwise muted colours comprising the furniture of the rest of the room. On the dark grey carpet, Scarlett toddled forward and landed on her behind, before screeching with laughter.

“Well, hello Scarlett!” Robert came up to the toddler and knelt beside her.

“Robert!” The fair-haired Sally ran over, from across the room. “Look what I have! I drew a picture of a dolphin!”

She shoved a piece of paper under his nose. From the scribbles of bright green and blue, the aquatic creature was hard to make out.

“Oh yes, that’s-“ Robert began.

Scarlett reached for the picture, so Sally snatched it away.

“No! That’s my picture!” Sally pouted.

Hayley winked at Robert and lifted Scarlett off the ground, placing her on her lap, as Timmy and Kristina also ran forward, to show Robert their pictures. Both had to explain to Robert what the various swirls and patterns on the pages represented.

“These are amazing! You guys have true talent. Move over Da Vinci,” Robert grinned up at the harried Krystal, who walked up behind them.

“Alright, how about we stop bothering Robert?”

“These kids are no problem whatsoever,” Robert grinned, ruffling Sally’s hair.

Krystal, a middle-aged ex school teacher, had arrived in Montgomery three days after they had returned from Los Angeles. The town, which was already thrilled at the healthy birth of Scarlett a week before, had been abuzz with the news of more children arriving, and had gathered around the town hall, to watch four-year-old Sally, her sister, five-year-old Kristina, and two-year-old Timmy step out of the four wheel drive their carer had been operating. Krystal, who had been heading to Alabama from Vancouver, had picked up Timmy, who was crying for his mother, by the side of the road in Portland, Oregan. They found the two girls in Salt Lake City, walking alongside the road, picking wildflowers.

Krystal gave him a smile which told him she was aware the children were bothering him, and led them away, back to the table at the side of the room, upon which sheafs of paper and texters were sprawled.

“She’s growing up so fast!” Robert said, turning back to Hayley, and tickling Scarlett under her chin. The doe-eyed toddler giggled.

“Thirteen months two days ago. Can’t believe it,” Hayley bounced her baby up and down on her knee, as the girl squealed with delight.

Though Robert had been on this specific journey with the children for over three months, every so often, a child’s laughter, or squeals, or even tantrums would reach his ears, and a light, sating warmth would fill his being, as though he was soaking in soothing bath water.

_Children. Children in my life again._

“You ok, Robert?” Hayley asked.

Robert blinked back the tears that had been burning his eyelids.

“I’m fantastic! Better give his Highness his coffee, before it goes cold.”

“Not long now,” Hayley said, as Robert stood. “I hope Tom’s right about Hemsworth. Even if he isn’t, it will be great to get off this damned yacht.”

Robert laughed.

“How did Scarlett go yesterday?”

“Scarlett was fine. _I_ was the one puking my guts out.”

Robert gripped her arm in commiseration, kissed the top of Scarlett’s head, waved back at the other children and made his way out of the room, picking up the coffee cups off the table as he left.

Traversing down the yacht’s corridors, he allowed conflicting emotions to wash over him. He no longer experienced regret or yearning for his past life, but sorrow, yes and also hope, joy, gratitude.

_Life is good. Finally, I can say it without feeling guilty._

When he entered the yacht’s control centre, he wasn’t aware he had a toothy smile plastered on his handsome visage, until George, the Captain, pointed it out.

“Someone’s happy!” The grey-haired man sat at the steering wheel, with his heavily pregnant partner, Clara beside him. They had not met each other before the apocalypse and, despite the fact she was twenty years younger, were making it work.

George had been the one to cement their plan to travel to Australia. Before then, Tom had spoke of a vague wish to find Hemsworth. When George revealed himself to be an experienced seafarer, who could operate any sea vessel, the plan took fruition. As they worked together on strategies, the others now on board requested to come with them, needing a change of scenery. Robert had, at the time, been wary of being so close to new children, after losing his own. However, he soon discovered the children were a blessing, rather than a detriment and, if anything, gave his memories a now golden sheen, over the former grey pall.

In his mind, he kept going back to what Chris had said to him. His love for his family did not imprison him to not love others as equally, because they had perished. His heart was large enough, and he was complicated enough, to hold both mourning and extreme love in the one person. Losing his wife, his children, the planet, did not entitle him to forever deny himself happiness. To do so was an insult to their memory, particularly as, in her last days, Susan had ordered him to keep living, to not allow the gloom to overtake and condemn him to a life of misery.

“I’m always happy,” Robert said, locating Tom, seated with Sebastian, next to the marine VHS radio equipment. Sebastian was fiddling with the dials, while Tom spoke softly beside him, lips upturned in his usual smile.

_Well hello there lovely._

Robert walked over and handed his partner the mug. Tom tilted his head back, pursing his lips and Robert relented, locking mouths and tongues together in a sweet, yet sating kiss.

“There’s your coffee, your royal loveliness. And there’s yours,” Releasing from Tom, he handed the mug in his left hand to Sebastian. “Your Romanian Cuteness.”

“I _am_ cute, thank you,” Sebastian smirked, sipping the coffee.

“I take it from the static, you’ve had no luck yet?” Robert said, placing his arms around Tom’s neck.

For the past three days, Tom had been adamant they would be able to communicate with people from Australia, via infra radio waves. Furthermore, he was convinced one of these survivors would be Hemsworth. When pressed further, he had blushed and said he had been assured, in a dream, that this would be the case. The odd dreams of the others had stopped when Los Angeles had been destroyed. Hence, Robert secretly considered Tom’s dream to be an elaborate fantasy, the determined wish of a man who, despite the trauma he had experienced, still believed in miracles. To Robert, for Chris Hemsworth to still be alive, and for them to find him, would be next to impossible.

 However, he wasn’t going to dissuade him. As far as Robert was concerned, his beautiful, magical Tom was allowed to come up with any fantasy he wanted to. Even if it meant helping him work through his anguish, when the truth was revealed that he was wrong about Hemsworth.

_Whatever you need, beautiful._

Robert kissed his neck, running his hands through his soft hair.

“We’ll get it,” Sebastian said.

“Where’s Chris?” Robert glanced around the room, recognising a distinct lack of Boston presence.

While the Romanian had jumped onto Tom’s idea, Chris had stepped back, as sceptical as Robert. As with Robert, however, Chris was determined to not argue the point. As with Tom, Sebastian needed to believe in something more, that fate would work to their advantage, this time.

“Needed to get some fresh air,” Sebastian said.

“Hm… think I will too.”

Robert gave Tom one last kiss on the top of his head and walked out of the room, moving up the adjoining corridor and stairs, to the yacht’s roof, where the caught the back of Chris, the bright sun highlighting natural reddish tints in his light brown hair.

“Hey there handsome,” Robert came over and stood beside him, observing the grey, choppy water surrounding them. The sky, in all directions was pale blue, interspersed with patches of white fluffy cloud. He supposed the concept of their little boat, in such an indifferent wide ocean should have made himself feel small, insignificant. Instead, he was reminded how blessed they were, to have survived this long, travelled this far.

“Still no luck?” Chris asked.

Robert shook his head.

“All this vast ocean…Makes me sad…Only eighteen months ago, there would have been other boats, planes flying overhead…” Chris said.

“I’m sure the environment is grateful for earth’s purge of its greatest predators. Humans.”

Chris turned to him and smirked, good humour now dancing with the sorrow in his irises, the colour of which matched the sky. “Now you sound like Tom.”

“But with a Robert twist.”

“Mm…” Chris turned back to the water.  “I needed to come out here…”

“Do you want to be alone?” Robert asked, sensing the unspoken words.

A line of tears trailed down Chris’s cheeks. “Cried so much in the past year. Cried a river. I don’t know why I’m so glum today. I have everything I want. There are _children_ on this yacht. I have my Seb. I have good friends in you and Tom. Hayley.”

“You were the one who told me it’s okay to feel grief and loss. It doesn’t lessen what we have here. If anything, it deepens it.”

Chris’s stunning features alighted with a wide smile, add odds with the tears clinging to his dark eyelashes.

“I keep thinking about my old life. I wanted to get away from playing Captain America, for so long. I both loved him and hated him.”

“I understand…Well, I loved playing Tony Stark. Could have played him till I turned ninety. Taking out baddies with my walking stick. But I understand, with you. Seb too.”

“I never wanted the old earth back. After the apocalypse ended, so many dead. I told myself I should wish for things to be back the way they were. But I never did. Despite my grief, I accepted this is the way things are now.”

“A new life,” Robert agreed. “There is no going back. Things aren’t half bad, don’t you think?”

“Not bad,” Chris patted him on the back.

Water splashed below. Robert rushed to the railing of the bow and peered over, to a dolphin, rising up out of the water and diving down again.

“Dolphin!” He shouted to Chris, who jogged to stand beside him, catching another leaping out of the blue depths.

“Chris! Robert!” Sebastian’s voice rang out.

Robert and Chris spun around to a puffed Sebastian climbing up the stairs towards them.

“It’s amazing! Come now! Quick, come now!”

For a moment, Robert was confused as to how Sebastian knew about the dolphins, before realising the Romanian wasn’t talking about them.

“What is it, Seb?” Chris asked.

“Come now!”

Robert caught Chris’s eyes and shrugged, before both climbed down the stairs after Sebastian.

“He was right! Tom was right all along!” Sebastian laughed, opening the door leading to the lower deck and allowing them through.

_Hemsworth? Oh my god, Tom, you intelligent gorgeous little sexy cookie! I’m sorry I doubted you!_

With his stomach tingling, Robert paced faster down the corridor, back to the yacht’s control room.

“… to hear from you! Sebastian and now my good friend Tom. This is turning out to be a bloody marvellous day,” the familiar voice rang out of the infra speakers that Tom and Clara were gathered around.

“Is that-?” Robert asked, mouth wide, to Sebastian.

The Romanian smiled and nodded.

Robert and Chris almost ran straight into each other, in their rush to get closer to the infra speaker.

“Yes, I’m here, I’m here,” Tom’s voice broke, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Robert Downey is here, also. Evans.”

“I was told they had survived. But, even so… wow… oh just… wow… I’m stunned,” Hemsworth said.

“You son of a bitch! Why am I surprised? You’re not a man, you’re a huge chunk of awesome masculinity with blond hair and an Australian accent,” Robert said, hugging Tom so tight his muscles trembled.

Hemsworth’s laughter rang out through the speakers. “Great to hear your voice, Robert.”

“So great to hear from you!” Chris said, grabbing Sebastian’s hand.

The door flung open and Hayley came in, with Scarlett in her arms.

“We have so much to tell you!” Chris said.

“I _bet_ you all have quite the stories to tell,” Hemsworth said.

Tom nodded so sharply, it was as though he’d turned one of Loki’s bobbleheads. His mouth opened and closed and the tears continued to run. To Robert, it was clear that he was too overcome with emotion to talk any more.

“We’re going to be seeing you, in person, within days. It’s surreal!” Sebastian said.

“Hello, Chris, it’s me, it’s Hayley!” Hayley pushed in beside Chris, as Scarlett cooed.

“Hayley! This keeps getting better,” Hemsworth said.

The door opened once more and the rest of the ship’s inhabitants came inside, with a rush of noise.

“Woah! What’s going on there?” Hemsworth asked.

“Chris, buddy, I’ll give you some time to converse with everyone here,” Robert said, taking Tom’s hand.

“Not wanting to be the centre of attention? Is that really you Robert?” Hemsworth’s sarcasm was clear.

“I already am aware I’m the handsomest person here,” Robert said.

As Hemsworth’s ensuing laughter rang out, he steered Tom out of the room and away from the crowd of people.

“Sometimes, we can be so overcome with positive emotion, it can be too much,” Robert said.

They continued down the adjoining hall, the only sound the occasional sniffle from Tom. Robert lead him down another set of stairs and through the adjoining corridor, to their room, locked the door and engulfed him in a hug. The second close person to him in a day to become emotional. This was supposed to be one of those good days, wasn’t it?

“I’m s-“ Tom began, wiping his cheeks of water.

“Don’t say it!” Robert warned.

“Hearing Chris brought up all of my angst…I’d heard from him a few times, in the beginning, when people were concerned but not panicked. He’d told me his loved ones were getting sick around him but he was fine. But then the communications went out and I met Jeremy…” Tom’s voice lowered. “Robert, he was the one who told me.”

“What do you mean?” Robert frowned.

“Jeremy came to me in a dream, told me we would contact Chris in Australia. We would see him again. Out of all the people I want to see again… Benedict…my parents…it has to be the one who abused me…He wants me to forgive him…”

A fresh wave of anger washed over Robert, clenching his fists, as _that_ name was mentioned.

_The Asshole._

“That’s not his choice. And it really makes me want to kick his ghost ass.”

“I asked him about… where he was. He said all he could say was that he was getting a lot of help, to work through pain he had caused others, to make amends. Maybe that’s why Benedict hasn’t appeared in my dreams. He atoned before he died. I’m trying to work towards forgiving Jeremy. But I can’t. Not now. I hope one day, in the future…”

Robert trailed his finger down a tear rolling down his high cheekbone. For this amazing man, who had been terrorised, repeatedly raped, to even begin on the path of forgiving his abuser, inspired him as no other had. Susan would like him, had liked him, when she met him on the set of Avengers.

“How lovely is that man,” she had said and then jested. “Please don’t sleep with him or I’ll be scared of you falling for him. It’s going to be a fun day for the tabloids, when they have to report about you leaving me for your male co-star.”

Robert had never appreciated the irony of her statement, until this moment.

He could imagine her voice in his ear.

“He’s a good ‘un. You keep him.”

_“That’s true. You hold onto this one or my spirit ass will kick your human one!” The voice sounded._

Robert gasped. The voice, speaking into his right ear, had been so vivid. So real. It was as though she was standing right beside him.

“Robert? What’s wrong?”

_Nothing. I think I may have received confirmation that it’s okay to be with you. Either that or I had a vivid auditory hallucination. Fun flashback from those rocky early days of utter gluttony._

He uptilted Tom’s chin and gazed into his fathomless blue irises.

“Australia is terrible,” Robert said, dryly. “Why are we even going there? Too many poisonous creatures. Can’t step out of the house without being attacked by a red back spider, tiger snake or drop bear.”

“Drop bears don’t exist,” Tom said, plucking at the buttons on Robert’s shirt.

“They do! They’re just another name for hordes of drunk rampaging Aussies launching themselves onto unsuspecting tourists.”

Tom kissed his lips. “I’ll protect you from the drunken hordes. After everything we’ve been through, drunk Australians will be easy to defeat.”

*

Robert sighed, thrusting faster into Tom’s delicious tight heat, as his lips pressed into the salty sweat of his neck, his hands trailing over his body, clasping his leaking erection, running over the soft flesh overlaying hard muscles of his chest, through the tiny hairs on the legs wrapped around his waist. Whether he topped or bottomed didn’t matter, as long as he was with his adorable, beautiful, sexy partner, relishing in his soft sighs, the beauty of his facial features and long, strong limbs, which always held Robert so close. That night, Tom had instigated the lovemaking, begging Robert to take him, to meld their bodies together.

“Robert…” Tom whispered.

“Mmm…yes lovely?”

“I can’t…I’m sorry.”

Robert ceased moving, rising, to gaze down onto the beloved face, vigilant for any sign of flashback or anxiety. For the past two weeks, Tom had been so enthusiastic with their lovemaking, that Robert was beginning to hope he had moved past his inhibitions and trauma caused by his sexual abuse.

“I’ll pull out, slowly, okay?”

Tom nodded, eyes flittering down, as Robert released his erection from his body, his heart plummeting. Perhaps there would never come a time, when Tom wasn’t at risk of being tense or anxious during their lovemaking. If that was true, that was fine. Robert would forgo sex, if it meant keeping his loving and sweet Brit by his side.

As Robert rolled off him, Tom sat up, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“I was enjoying your attentions but then I remembered the first night that Jeremy raped me. I had forgotten that after, I was scrubbing his scent off me and I was convinced, in my traumatised state that I was weak, that another man… a Hemsworth would have fought him off…”

_My poor beautiful man._

Robert snuggled against his back, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “As awesome as that Thunder from Down under is, if a backwards hick wanted to… It could have happened to _any_ of us, even him. It doesn’t make you weak but the opposite. You’re titanium, babe. With a diamond centre.”

“I believe that,” Tom said, squeezing his hand. “One hundred percent. Well, maybe not the titanium bit. I had forgotten I’d had that thought. It came to me, while we were making love just then. I’m not sure why my mind took that particular moment to torment me. And I didn’t want to associate being intimate with you, with those thoughts. When I’m with you, I feel pure, untainted. I want to keep it that way. Sometimes I wish I could get out of my own head. I need to meditate again.”

“What an incredible place it must be to live in, that big beautiful brain of yours,” Robert said.

Tom turned around to face him.

“Why am I in my own head, when the reality, in this moment, is that the most incredible, amazing man is with me?”

“It’s true… I _am_ … incredible,” Robert grinned.

“You are,” Tom said, kissing his lips.

“As much as I have this absurd urge to touch you all the time, I’m happy you’re confident enough to tell me if you need to stop, even in the middle of sexual intercourse. Sex has to go two ways, with me, at least.”

“Me too,” Tom said. “And same with you. If you ever want to stop or-“

“I seriously doubt that’s going to happen. I’m a sex god, haven’t you noticed?”

Tom scooted further forward, placing his legs around Robert’s waist.

“Hell yes, I noticed,” he favoured Robert with his typical sunny smile.

“Damn, do I love you, you crazy kook, determined to be with _me_ , the craziest kook of them all.”

Tom laughed. “Love you too, Kooky.”

*

Later that night, Tom shook him awake, with rambunctious need to finish what they’d ceased hours earlier. This time, he shuddered, moaned and moved fluid with Robert, mewling as he orgasmed, spurting come between them. Robert released moments later inside him, reaching a peak so high he commented later that perhaps he’d broken a part of his brain.

“I’m certain you broke the sound systems on this ship, with the loudness of your orgasmic cries, Kooky,” Tom commented.

“That’s what you do to me, beautiful,” Robert laughed.

*

Chris and his fellow Australians celebrated the docking of their yacht in the Byron Bay harbour in the most Aussie way Robert could think of, by going to the pub. As Hemsworth explained, in the past year, they had cleared the pub, as well as the entire town, of corpses, burying them in the local landfill, before moving on to cleaning all of the houses, to make them habitable for survivors. Also, to show off their superiority, compared to the survivors in Montgomery, taking advantage of the knowledge of the more technologically gifted of the surviving population, they now had the electricity grid working. Their town was smaller than Montgomery, consisting of around four hundred people, who had all come out that night, to view the ship come in. According to Hemsworth, other settlements were verified throughout Australia, through high frequency radio, the biggest of which was in Melbourne, consisting of at least ten thousand people.

There was no Lilith, no sorting of the survivors between the ‘good’ town and ‘bad’ town, although there were prophetic dreams. Hemsworth explained this was how he knew they would come to Australia, to be with him.

“Out of all countries, of course the Christ and anti-Christ would settle in the USA,” Sebastian joked, as the ex-castmates sat around the pub table laden with jugs of beer and various other glasses of alcohol, laughing, joking and reminiscing.

Hemsworth had listened with awe at their tales of going to Los Angeles and the reveal of Lilith. Anyone else would presume they were insane, but Hemsworth, as was his genial nature, took it in his stride.

“Poor Danai. Poor Lizzy. Poor everyone.”

Shortened versions of their own post-apocalyptic stories were given after Hemsworth boarded their yacht, given everyone a needed back slapping hug, and given a shriek of joy upon seeing little Scarlett. Tom had gone first, skipping Jeremy’s sexual assaults. When they all recounted their tales, out of respect for Tom, they also didn’t mention Jeremy’s abuse. Hemsworth had cried, when Chris told the tale of how Scarlett, Chadwick and Anthony had died. As did Chris. Robert, himself, swallowed compulsively, to cease his own waterworks. Though both Tom and Sebastian’s eyes brightened, the tears for them didn’t fall.

Hemsworth’s own tale had been short and familiar. After losing everyone he loved, he wandered the streets for a long while, before traversing into the desert, in search of meaning, for the death of so many around him, that never came. After a week of camping and surviving freezing temperatures at night, and battling great heat, as well as the occasional poisonous snake or spider by day, he was picked up by a kindly couple, who were on their way back to Byron Bay. Along the way, they picked up more survivors and settled back into the community. His story, though filled with loss, did not bear the violence of theirs. Robert was thankful Chris had been spared such suffering.

Not long after they departed off the boat, Hemsworth was showing them around town, when Tom had pulled him and Robert away from the others.

“There’s something you should know…” Tom had gulped, gripping Robert’s arm so tight it was painful. “I told you I was initially with Jeremy. What we didn’t tell you was that it wasn’t his choice to leave. We decided he couldn’t stay with us. Because when I was with him, he… he raped me. More than once.”

Hemsworth then gasped, his blue eyes flashing with intermingled fury and sorrow.

“Tom…That’s terrible… Oh my god…”

Tom had then told him the story of his sexual abuse by Jeremy, including his and Sebastian’s kidnapping and subsequent further rape, with a steadier voice than when he had told Robert, those many months before. When he finished, his face was clear of tears, although Hemsworth’s wasn’t.

“Anything you need, Tom. Anything at all. You know I love you? Right? You are one of the closest friends of mine. My brother.”

“I feel that way too,” Tom had said.

They had then embraced. Noticing that Robert stood awkward to the side, Chris had said.

“Come here, you!” and involved him in the three-way hug.

Although Robert was not drinking the beer or wine of the others, his glass of coke had now reached his bladder.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Making his way to the bathroom, he was stopped by a couple wanting to talk to him about playing Chaplin, which he was more than happy to reminisce about. He was two metres from the toilet door, before another stopped him, to discuss Iron Man. Once inside, he quickly finished his business, washed his hands and came out, walking back to the main pub room, and stopped to gaze at the people around the table.

A smiling Hayley held little Scarlett in her arms, who giggled. Beside her, Chris was playing peekaboo. Sebastian’s hand was clasped in his partner’s but his attention was diverted between Hemsworth and Tom. All three were in enthusiastic conversation. Sebastian and Tom burst out into laughter.

His people. Robert’s love for them was strong. In that moment, there was no suffering, no worry for the future, no pain from the past, there was only him and those who he cared for, who he was fortunate to have in his life. Tom turned and caught his eyes, favouring him with his dazzling smile. As though propelled there by a lacky band, Robert rushed over, pulled out his chair and sat beside him.

“Feeling contemplative, my love?” Tom whispered.

“Thinking how blessed I am,” Robert said. “I have good friends. I have you. Yep, everything is pretty sweet right now.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Kooky,” Tom grinned, lifted his hand and kissed it. Robert squeezed back, placed his other arm around Tom’s shoulders and turned his attention to the vivid conversation amongst friends, eager to add his own charming input.


End file.
